!k -,■=&->->- - 


uyf — 


AULD     LIGHT     IDYLLS. 


Portrait  of  J.  M.  Barrik. 


H.  M.  CALDWELL  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK  AND  BOSTON      Ji     ^ 


"fi'K 


CONTENTS. 

CBAV.  *AGB 

L  THE  SCHOOLHOUSE I 

II.  THRUMS        9 

III.  THE  AULD   LIGHT   KIRK       r,,  6o 

IV.  LADS  AND  LASSES     94 

V.  THE  AULD  LIGHTS   IN  ARMS      II4 

VI.  THE  OLD   DOMINIE I30 

VII.  CREE  QUEERY  AND   MVSY  DROLLY 145 

VIII.  THE  COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAD'S   BELL  156 

IX.  DAVITLUNAN'S  POLITICAL  REMINISCENCES  196 

X.  A  VERY  OLD   FAMILY 2o6 

IX.  LITTLE  RATHIE'S  "BURAL"        217 

XII.  A  LITERARY  CLUB 23I 


CHAPTER  L 

THE  SCHOOLHOUSE. 

Early  this  morning  I  opened  a  window  in 
my  schoolhouse  in  the  glen  of  Quharity, 
awakened  by  the  shivering  of  a  starving 
sparrow  against  the  frosted  glass.  As  the 
snowy  sash  creaked  in  my  hand,  he  made  off 
to  the  waterspout  that  suspends  its  "  tangles  " 
of  ice  over  a  gaping  tank,  and,  rebounding 
from  that,  with  a  quiver  of  his  little  black 
breast,  bobbed  through  the  network  of  wire 
and  joined  a  few  of  his  fellows  in  a  forlorn 
hop  round  the  henhouse  in  search  of  food. 
Two  days  ago  my  hilarious  bantam-cock, 
saucy  to  the  last,  my  cheeriest  companion, 
was  found  frozen  in  his  own  water-trough, 
the  corn-saucer  in  three  pieces  by  his  side. 

2 


2  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

Since  then  I  have  taken  the  hens  into  the 
house.  At  meal-times  they  litter  the  hearth 
with  each  other's  feathers  ;  but  for  the  most 
part  they  give  little  trouble,  roosting  on  the 
rafters  of  the  low-roofed  kitchen  among 
staves  and  fishing-rods. 

Another  white  blanket  has  been  spread 
upon  the  glen  since  I  looked  out  last  night  ; 
for  over  the  same  wilderness  of  snow  that  has 
met  my  gaze  for  a  week,  I  see  the  steading  of 
Waster  Lunny  sunk  deeper  into  the  waste. 
The  schoolhouse,  I  suppose,  serves  similarly 
as  a  snowmark  for  the  people  at  the  farm. 
Unless  that  is  Waster  Lunny's  grieve  fodder- 
ing the  cattle  in  the  snow,  not  a  living  thing 
is  visible.  The  ghostlike  hills  that  pen  in  the 
glen  have  ceased  to  echo  to  the  sharp  crack 
of  the  sportsman's  gun  (so  clear  in  the  frosty 
air  as  to  be  a  warning  to  every  rabbit  and 
partridge  in  the  valley)  ;  and  only  giant  Cat- 
law  shows  here  and  there  a  black  ridge, 
rearing  his  head  at  the  entrance  to  the  glen 
and  struggling  ineffectually  to  cast  off  his 
shroud.     Most  wintry  sign  of  all,  I  think  as  I 


THE  SCHOOLHOUSE.  3 

close  the  window  hastily,  is  the  open  farm- 
stile,  its  poles  lying  embedded  in  the  snow 
where  they  were  last  flung  by  Waster  Lunny's 
herd.  Through  the  still  air  comes  from  a 
distance  a  vibration  as  of  a  tuning-fork:  a 
robin,  perhaps,  alighting  on  the  wire  of  a 
broken  fence.  ' 

In  the  warm  kitchen,  where  I  dawdle  over 
my  breakfast,  tha-  widowed  bantam-hen  has 
perched  on  the  back  of  my  drowsy  cat  It  is 
needless  to  go  through  the  form  of  opening 
the  school  to-day  ;  for,  with  the  exception  of 
Waster  Lunny's  girl,  I  have  had  no  scholars 
for  nine  days.  Yesterday  she  announced  that 
there  would  be  no  more  schooling  till  it  was 
fresh,  "as  she  wasna  comin';"  and  indeed, 
though  the  smoke  from  the  farm  chimneys  is 
a  pretty  prospect  for  a  snowed-up  school- 
master, the  trudge  between  the  two  houses 
must  be  weary  work  for  a  bairn.  As  for  the 
other  children,  who  have  to  come  from  all  parts 
of  the  hills  and  glen,  I  may  not  see  them  for 
weeks.  Last  year  the  school  was  practically 
ieserted  for  a  month.     A  pleasant  outlook, 


4  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

with  the  March  examinations  staring  me  in 
the  face,  and  an  inspector  fresh  from  Oxford. 
I  wonder  what  he  would  say  if  he  saw  me 
to-day  digging  myself  out  of  the  schoolhouse 
with  the  spade  I  now  keep  for  the  purpose  in 
my  bedroom. 

The  kail  grows  brittle  from  the  snow  in  my 
dank  and  cheerless  garden.    A  crust  of  bread 
gathers  timid  pheasants  round  me.  The  robins, 
I  see,  have  made  the  coalhouse  their  home. 
Waster  Lunny's  dog  never  barks  without  rous- 
ing my  sluggish  cat  to  a  joyful  response.     It 
is  Dutch  courage  with  the  birds  and  beasts  of 
the  glen,  hard  driven  for   food  ;  but  I  look 
attentively  for  them  in  these  long  forenoons, 
and  they  have  begun  to  regard  me  as  one  of 
themselves.      My  breath  freezes,  despite  my 
pipe,  as  I  peer  from  the  door ;  and  with  a  fort- 
night-old newspaper  I  retire  to  the  ingle-nook. 
The  friendliest  thing  I  have  seen  to-day  is  the 
well-smoked  ham  suspended  from  my  kitchen 
rafters.     It  was  a  gift  from  the  farm  of  Tullin, 
with  a  load  of  peats,  the  day  before  the  snow 
began  to  fall.  I  doubt  if  I  have  seenacart  since 


THE  SCHOOLHOUSE.  5 

This  vifternoon  I  was  the  not  altogether 
passive  spectator  of  a  curious  scene  in  natural 
history.  My  feet  encased  in  stout  "  tackety  " 
boots,  I  had  waded  down  two  of  Waster 
Lunny's  fields  to  the  glen  burn  :  in  summer 
the  never-failing  larder  from  which,  with 
wriggling  worm  or  garish  fly,  I  can  any  morn- 
ing whip  a  savoury  breakfast  ;  in  the  winter- 
time the  only  thing  in  the  valley  that  defies 
the  ice-king's  chloroform.  I  watched  the 
water  twisting  black  and  solemn  through  the 
snow,  the  ragged  ice  on  its  edge  proof  of  the 
toughness  of  the  struggle  with  the  frost,  from 
which  it  has,  after  all,  crept  only  half  victo- 
rious. A  bare  wild  rose-bush  on  the  further 
bank  was  violently  agitated,  and  then  there 
ran  from  its  root  a  black-headed  rat  with 
wings.  Such  was  the  general  effect.  I  was 
not  less  interested  when  my  startled  eyes 
divided  this  phenomenon  into  its  component 
parts,  and  recognized  in  the  disturbance  on 
the  opposite  bank  only  another  fierce  struggle 
among  the  hungry  animals  for  existence  ; 
they   need  no  professor  to  teach  them  the 


6  AULD  LICIIT  IDYLLS. 

doctrine  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  A 
weasel  had  gripped  a  water-hen  (whit-rit  and 
beltie  they  are  called  in  these  parts)  cowering 
at  the  root  of  the  rose-bush,  and  was  being 
dragged  down  the  bank  by  the  terrified  bird, 
which  made  for  the  water  as  its  only  chance 
of  escape.  In  less  disadvantageous  circum- 
stances the  weasel  would  have  made  short 
work  of  his  victim  ;  but  as  he  only  had 
the  bird  by  the  tail,  the  prospects  of  the 
combatants  were  equalized.  It  was  the  tug- 
of-war  being  played  with  a  life  as  the  stakes. 
"  If  I  do  not  reach  the  water,"  was  the  argu- 
ment that  went  on  in  the  heaving  little  breast 
of  the  one,  "  I  am  a  dead  bird."  "  If  this 
water-hen,"  reasoned  the  other,  "  reaches  the 
burn,  my  supper  vanishes  with  her."  Down 
the  sloping  bank  the  hen  had  distinctly  the 
best  of  it,  but  after  that  came  a  yard  of  level 
snow,  and  here  she  tugged  and  screamed  in 
vain.  I  had  so  far  been  an  unobserved  spec- 
tator ;  but  my  sympathies  were  with  the 
beltie,  and,  thinking  it  high  time  to  interfere, 
I   jumped    into  the  water.      The   water-hen 


THE  SCnOOLHOUSE.  7 

gave  one  mighty  final  tug  and  toppled  into 
the  burn  ;  while  the  weasel  viciously  showed 
me  his  teeth,  and  then  stole  slowly  up  the 
bank  to  the  rose-bush,  whence,  "  girning,"  he 
watched  me  lift  his  exhausted  victim  from 
the  water,  and  set  off  with  her  for  the  school- 
house.  Except  for  her  draggled  tail,  she 
already  looks  wonderfully  composed,  and  so 
long  as  the  frost  holds  I  shall  have  little 
difficulty  in  keeping  her  with  me.  On 
Sunday  I  found  a  frozen  sparrow,  whose 
heart  had  almost  ceased  to  beat,  in  the  dis- 
used pigsty,  and  put  him  for  warmth  into  my 
breast-pocket.  The  ungrateful  little  scrub 
bolted  without  a  word  of  thanks  about  ten 
minutes  afterwards  to  the  alarm  of  my  cat, 
which  had  not  known  his  whereabouts. 

I  am  alone  in  the  schoolhouse.  On  just 
such  an  evening  as  this  last  year  my  desola- 
tion drove  me  to  Waster  Lunny,  where  I 
was  storm-staid  for  the  night.  The  recollec- 
tion decides  me  to  court  my  own  warm  hearth, 
to  challenge  my  right  hand  again  to  a  game 
at  the  "  dambrod  "  against  my  left.     I  do  not 


8  A  ULD  UCHT  ID  YLLS. 

lock  the  schoolhouse  door  at  nights  ;  for  even 
a  highwayman  (there  is  no  such  luck)  would 
be  received  with  open  arms,  and  I  doubt  it 
there  be  a  barred  door  in  all  the  glen.  But 
it  is  cosier  to  put  on  the  shutters.  The  road 
to  Thrums  has  lost  itself  miles  down  the 
valley.  I  wonder  what  they  are  doing  out  in 
the  world.  Though  I  am  the  Free  Church 
precentor  in  Thrums  (ten  pounds  a  year,  and 
the  little  town  is  five  miles  away),  they  have 
not  seen  me  for  three  weeks.  A  packman 
whom  I  thawed  yesterday  at  my  kitchen  fire 
tells  me,  that  last  Sabbath  only  the  Auld 
Lichts  held  service.  Other  people  realized 
that  they  were  snowed  up.  Far  up  the  glen, 
after  it  twists  out  of  view,  a  manse  and  half 
a  dozen  thatched  cottages  that  are  there  may 
still  show  a  candle  light,  and  the  crumbling 
gravestones  keep  cold  vigil  round  the  grey 
old  kirk.  Heavy  shadows  fade  into  the  sky 
to  the  north.  A  flake  trembles  against  the 
window  ;  but  it  is  too  cold  for  much  snow 
to-night.  The  shutter  bars  the  outer  world 
from  the  schoolhouse. 


CHAPTER  It 

THRUMS. 

Thrums  is  the  name  I  give  here  to  the 
handful  of  houses  jumbled  together  in  a 
cup,  which  is  the  town  nearest  the  school- 
house.  Until  twenty  years  ago  its  every 
other  room,  earthen-floored  and  showing  the 
rafters  overhead,  had  a  handloom,  and  hun- 
dreds of  weavers  lived  and  died  Thoreaus 
"  ben  the  hoose "  without  knowing  it.  In 
those  days  the  cup  overflowed  and  left 
several  houses  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  where 
their  cold  skeletons  still  stand.  The  road 
that  climbs  from  the  square,  which  is 
Thrums's  heart,  to  the  north  is  so  steep  and 
straight,  that  in  a  sharp  frost  children 
hunker  at  the  top  and  are  blown  down  with 


lo  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

a  roar  and  a  rush  on  rails  of  ice.  At  such 
times,  when  viewed  from  the  cemetery  where 
the  traveller  from  the  schoolhouse  gets  his 
first  glimpse  of  the  little  town,  Thrums  is  but 
two  church  steeples  and  a  dozen  red  stone 
patches  standing  out  of  a  snow-heap.  One 
of  the  steeples  belongs  to  the  new  Free 
Kirk,  and  the  other  to  the  parish  church,  both 
of  which  the  first  Auld  Licht  minister  I 
knew  ran  past  when  he  had  not  time  to 
avoid  them  by  taking  a  back  wynd.  He  was 
but  a  pocket  edition  of  a  man,  who  grew  two 
inches  after  he  was  called  ;  but  he  was  so  full 
of  the  cure  of  souls,  that  he  usually  scudded  to 
it  with  his  coat-tails  quarrelling  behind  him. 
His  successor,  whom  I  knew  better,  was  a 
greater  scholar,  and  said,  "  Let  us  see  what 
this  is  in  the  original  Greek,"  as  an  ordinary 
man  might  invite  a  friend  to  dinner ;  but  he 
never  wrestled  as  Mr.  Dishart,  his  successor, 
did  with  the  pulpit  cushions,  nor  flung  him- 
self at  the  pulpit  door.  Nor  was  he  so  "hard 
on  the  Book,"  as  Lang  Tammas,  the  pre- 
centor, expressed  it,  meaning  that  he  did  not 


THRUMS.  " 

bang  the  Bible  with  his  fist  as  much  as  might 
have  been  wished. 

Thrums  had  been  known  to  me  for  years 
before  I  succeeded  the  captious  dominie  at 
the  schoolhouse  in  the  glen.  The  dear  old 
soul  who  originally  induced  me  to  enter  the 
Auld  Licht  kirk  by  lamenting  the  "  want  of 
Christ"  in  the  minister's  discourses  was  my 
first  landlady.  For  the  last  ten  years  of  her 
life  she  was  bedridden,  and  only  her  interest 
in  the  kirk  kept  her  alive.  Her  case  against 
the  minister  was  that  he  did  not  call  to 
denounce  her  sufficiently  often  for  her  sins, 
her  pleasure  being  to  hear  him  bewailing 
her  on  his  knees  as  one  who  was  probably 
past  praying  for.  She  was  as  sweet  and 
pure  a  woman  as  I  ever  knew,  and  had 
her  wishes  been  horses,  she  would  have  sold 
them  and  kept  (and  looked  after)  a  minister 
herself. 

There  are  few  Auld  Licht  communities  in 
Scotland  nowadays — perhaps  because  people 
are  now  so  well  off,  for  the  most  devout  Auld 
Lichts  were  always  poor,  and  their  last  years 


la  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

were  generally  a  grim  struggle  with  the 
workhouse.  Many  a  heavy-eyed,  back-bent 
weaver  has  won  his  Waterloo  in  Thrums 
fighting  on  his  stumps.  There  are  a  score 
or  two  of  them  left  still,  for,  though  there 
are  now  two  factories  in  the  town  the  clatter 
of  the  handloom  can  yet  be  heard,  and  they 
have  been  starving  themselves  of  late  until 
they  have  saved  up  enough  money  to  get 
another  minister. 

The  square  is  packed  away  in  the  centre 
of  Thrums,  and  irregularly  built  little  houses 
squeeze  close  to  it  like  chickens  clustering 
round  a  hen.  Once  the  Auld  Lichts  held 
property  in  the  square,  but  other  denomina- 
tions have  bought  them  out  of  it,  and  now 
few  of  them  are  even  to  be  found  in  the  main 
streets  that  make  for  the  rim  of  the  cup. 
They  live  in  the  kirk-wynd,  or  in  retiring 
little  houses  the  builder  of  which  does  not 
seem  to  have  remembered  that  it  is  a  good 
plan  to  have  a  road  leading  to  houses  until 
after  they  were  finished.  Narrow  paths  strag- 
gling  round    gardens,    some    of    them   with 


THRUMS.  13 

stunted  gates,  which  it  is  commoner  to  step 
over  than  to  open,  have  been  formed  to  reach 
these  dwellings,  but  in  winter  they  are  run- 
ning  streams,   and    then    the    best    way    to 
reach  a  house  such  as  that  of  Tammy  Meal- 
maker  the  Wright,  pronounced  wir-icht,  is  over 
a  broken  dyke  and  a  pig-sty.     Tammy,  who 
died  a  bachelor,  had  been  soured  in  his  youth 
by  a   disappointment   in   love,   of  which   he 
spoke    but    seldom.      She     lived    far    away 
in   a  town   to   which   he   had   wandered    in 
the  days  when  his  blood  ran  hot,  and  they 
became    engaged.      Unfortunately,   however, 
Tammy  forgot  her  name,  and  he  never  knew 
the  address  ;  so  there  the  affair  ended,  to  his 
silent  grief.     He   admitted   himself,  over  his 
snuff-mull  of  an  evening,  that  he  was  a  very 
ordinary  character,  but  a  certain  halo  of  horror 
was  cast  over  the  whole  family  by  their  con- 
nection with  little  Joey  Sutie,  who  was  pointed 
at  in  Thrums  as  the  laddie  that  whistled  when 
he  went   past  the  minister.    Joey  became  a 
pedlar,  and  was  found  dead  one  raw  morning 
dangling  over  a  high  wall  within  a  few  miles 


14  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

of  Thrums.  When  climbing  the  dyke  his 
pack  had  slipped  back,  the  strap  round  his 
neck,  and  choked  him. 

You  could  generally  tell  an  Auld  Licht  in 
Thrums  when  you  passed  him,  his  dull  vacant 
face  wrinkled  over  a  heavy  wob.  He  wore  tags 
of  yarn  round  his  trousers  beneath  the  knee, 
that  looked  like  ostentatious  garters,  and  fre- 
quently his  jacket  of  corduroy  was  put  on 
beneath  his  waistcoat.  If  he  was  too  old  to 
carry  his  load  on  his  back,  he  wheeled  it  on  a 
creaking  barrow,  and  when  he  met  a  friend 
they  said,  "  Ay,  Jeames,"  and  "  Ay,  Davit," 
and  then  could  think  of  nothing  else.  At 
long  intervals  they  passed  through  the  square, 
disappearing  or  coming  into  sight  round  the 
town-house  which  stands  on  the  south  side  of 
it,  and  guards  the  entrance  to  a  steep  brae 
that  leads  down  and  then  twists  up  on  its 
lonely  way  to  the  county  town.  I  like  to 
linger  over  the  square,  for  it  was  from  an 
upper  window  in  it  that  I  got  to  know  Thrums. 
On  Saturday  nights,  when  the  Auld  Licht 
young  men  came  into  the  square  dressed  and 


THRUMS.  IS 

washed  to  look  at  the  young  women  errand- 
going,  and  to  laugh  sometime  afterwards  to 
each  other,  it  presented  a  glare  of  light ;  and 
here  even  came  the  cheap  jacks  and  the  Fair 
Circassian, and  the  showman,  who, besides  play- 
ing "The  Mountain  Maid  and  the  Shepherd's 
Bride,"  exhibited  part  of  the  tail  of  Balaam's 
ass,  the  helm  of  Noah's  ark,  and  the  tartan 
plaid  in  which  Flora  McDonald  wrapped 
Prince  Charlie.  More  select  entertainment, 
such  as  Shuffle  Kitty's  waxwork,  whose  motto 
was,  "  A  rag  to  pay,  and  in  you  go,"  were 
given  in  a  hall  whose  approach  was  by  an 
outside  stair.  On  the  Muckle  Friday,  the 
fair  for  which  children  storing  their  pocket 
money  would  accumulate  sevenpence-half- 
penny  in  less  than  six  months,  the  square  was 
crammed  with  gingerbread  stalls,  bag-pipers, 
fiddlers,  and  monstrosities  who  were  gifted 
with  second  sight  There  w«£  a  bearded 
man,  who  had  neither  legs  nor  arms,  and 
was  drawn  through  the  streets  in  a  small 
cart  by  four  dogs.  By  looking  at  you  he 
could  see  all  the  clockwork  inside,  as  could 


i6  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS, 

a  boy  who  was  led  about  by  his  mother 
at  the  end  of  a  string.  Every  Friday  there 
was  the  market,  when  a  dozen  ramshackle 
carts  containing  vegetables  and  cheap  crockery 
filled  the  centre  of  the  square,  resting  in 
line  on  their  shafts.  A  score  of  farmers' 
wives  or  daughters  in  old-world  garments 
squatted  against  the  town-house  within  walls 
of  butter  on  cabbage-leaves,  eggs  and  chickens. 
Towards  evening  the  voice  of  the  buckie-man 
shook  the  square,  and  rival  fish-cadgers, 
terrible  characters  who  ran  races  on  horse- 
back, screamed  libels  at  each  other  over  a 
fruiterer's  barrow.  Then  it  was  time  for  douce 
Auld  Lichts  to  go  home,  draw  their  stools 
near  the  fire,  spread  their  red  handkerchiefs 
over  their  legs  to  prevent  their  trousers  getting 
singed,  and  read  their  "  Pilgrim's  Progress." 

In  my  schoolhouse,  however,  I  seem  to  see 
the  square  most  readily  in  the  Scotch  mist 
which  so  often  filled  it,  loosening  the  stones 
and  choking  the  drains.  There  was  then  no 
rattle  of  rain  against  my  window-sill,  nor 
dancing  of  diamond  drops  on  the  roofs,  but 


THRUMS.  17 

blobs  of  water  grew  on  the  panes  of  glass  to 
reel  heavily  down  them.  Then  the  sodden 
square  would  have  shed  abundant  tears  if  you 
could  have  taken  it  in  your  hands  and  wrung 
it  like  a  dripping  cloth.  At  such  a  time  the 
square  would  be  empty  but  for  one  vegetable 
cart  left  in  the  care  of  a  lean  collie,  which,  tied 
to  the  wheel,  whined  and  shivered  underneath. 
Pools  of  water  gather  in  the  coarse  sacks, 
that  have  been  spread  over  the  potatoes  and 
bundles  of  greens,  which  turn  to  manure 
in  their  lidless  barrels.  The  eyes  of  the 
whimpering  dog  never  leave  a  black  close  over 
which  hangs  the  sign  of  the  Bull,  probably 
the  refuge  of  the  hawker.  At  long  intervals 
a  farmer's  gig  rumbles  over  the  bumpy,  ill- 
paved  square,  or  a  native,  with  his  head  buried 
in  his  coat,  peeps  out  of  doors,  skurries  across 
the  way,  and  vanishes.  Most  of  the  leading 
shops  are  here,  and  the  decorous  draper  ven- 
tures a  few  yards  from  the  pavement  to  scan 
the  sky,  or  note  the  &^q.c\.  of  his  new  arrange- 
ment in  scarves.  Planted  against  his  door  is 
the  butcher,  Renders  Todd,  white-aproned, 
3 


I8  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

and  with  a  knife  in  his  hand,  gazing  in- 
terestedly at  the  draper,  for  a  mere  man 
may  look  at  an  elder.  The  tinsmith  brings 
out  his  steps,  and,  mounting  them,  stealthily 
removes  the  saucepans  and  pepper-pots  that 
dangle  on  a  wire  above  his  sign-board.  Pull- 
ing to  his  door  he  shuts  out  the  foggy  light 
that  showed  in  his  solder-strewn  workshop. 
The  square  is  deserted  again.  A  bundle  of 
sloppy  parsley  slips  from  the  hawker's  cart 
and  topples  over  the  wheel  in  driblets.  The 
puddles  in  the  sacks  overflow  and  run  to- 
gether. The  dog  has  twisted  his  chain  round 
a  barrel  and  yelps  sharply.  As  if  in  response 
comes  a  rush  of  other  dogs.  A  terrified  fox 
terrier  tears  across  the  square  with  half  a  score 
of  mongrels,  the  butcher's  mastiff  and  some 
collies  at  his  heels  ;  he  is  doubtless  a  stranger 
who  has  insulted  them  by  his  glossy  coat. 
For  two  seconds  the  square  shakes  to  an  in- 
vasion of  dogs,  and  then,  again,  there  is  only 
one  dog  in  sight. 

No  one  will   admit   the   Scotch   mist.     It 
"  looks  saft."     The  tinsmith  "  wudna  wonder 


THRUMS,  19 

but  what  it  was  makkin  for  rain."  Tammas 
Haggart  and  Pete  Lunan  dander  into  sight 
bareheaded,  and  have  to  stretch  out  their 
hands  to  discover  what  the  weather  is  Hke. 
By  and  by  they  come  to  a  standstill  to  discuss 
the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  then  they  are 
looking  silently  at  the  Bull,  Neither  speaks, 
but  they  begin  to  move  toward  the  inn  at  the 
same  time,  and  its  door  closes  on  them 
before  they  know  what  they  are  doing.  A 
few  mjnutes  afterwards  Jinny  Dundas,  who  is 
Pete's  wife,  runs  straight  for  the  Bull  in  her 
short  gown,  which  is  tucked  up  very  high,  and 
emerges  with  her  husband  soon  afterwards. 
Jinny  is  voluble,  but  Pete  says  nothing.  Tam- 
mas follows  later,  putting  his  head  out  at  the 
door  first,  and  looking  cautiously  about  him 
to  see  if  any  one  is  in  sight.  Pete  is  a  U.  P., 
and  may  be  left  to  his  fate,  but  the  Auld  Licht 
minister  thinks  that  tliough  it  be  hard  work, 
Tammas  is  worth  saving. 

To  the  Auld  Licht  of  the  past  there  were 
three  degrees  of  damnation — auld  kirk,  play- 
acting, chapeL     Chapel  was  the  rame  always 


20  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

given  to  the  English  Church,  of  which  I  am 
too  much  an  Auld  Licht  myself  to  care  to 
write  even  now.  To  belong  to  the  chapel 
was,  in  Thrums,  to  be  a  Roman  Catholic,  and 
the  boy  who  flung  a  clod  of  earth  at  the 
English  minister — who  called  the  Sabbath 
Sunday — or  dropped  a  "  divet "  down  his 
chimney  was  held  to  be  in  the  right  way. 
The  only  pleasant  story  Thrums  could  tell 
of  the  chapel  was  that  its  steeple  once  fell. 
It  is  surprising  that  an  English  church  was 
ever  suffered  to  be  built  in  such  a  place ; 
though  probably  the  county  gentry  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  it  They  travelled  about 
too  much  to  be  good  men.  Small  though 
Thrums  used  to  be,  it  had  four  kirks  in  all 
before  the  Disruption,  and  then  another, 
which  split  into  two  immediately  afterwards. 
The  spire  of  the  parish  church,  known  as  the 
auld  kirk,  commands  a  view  of  the  square, 
from  which  the  entrance  to  the  kirkyard 
would  be  visible,  if  it  were  not  hidden  by  the 
town-house.  The  kirkyard  has  long  been 
crammed,  and    is  not    now  in    use,  but    the 


THRUMS.  21 

church  is  sufficiently  large  to  hold  nearly  all 
the  congregations  in  Thrums.  Just  at  the 
gate  lived  Pete  Todd,  the  father  of  Sam'l,  a 
man  of  whom  the  Auld  Lichts  had  reason  to 
be  proud.  Pete  was  an  every  day  man  at 
ordinary  times,  and  was  even  said,  when  his 
wife,  who  had  been  long  ill,  died,  to  have 
clapped  his  hands  and  exclaimed,  "  Hip,  hip, 
hurrah ! "  adding  only  as  an  afterthought, 
"  The  Lord's  will  be  done."  But  midsummer 
was  his  great  opportunity.  Then  took  place 
the  rouping  of  the  seats  in  the  parish  church. 
The  scene  was  the  kirk  itself,  and  the  seats 
being  put  up  to  auction  were  knocked  down 
to  the  highest  bidder.  This  sometimes  led 
to  the  breaking  of  the  peace.  Every  person 
was  present  who  was  at  all  particular  as  to 
where  he  sat,  and  an  auctioneer  was  engaged 
for  the  day.  He  rouped  the  kirk-seats  like 
potato-drills,  beginning  by  asking  for  a  bid. 
Every  seat  was  put  up  to  auction  separately  ; 
for  some  were  much  more  run  after  than 
others,  and  the  men  were  instructed  by  their 
wives   what   to  bid  for.      Often   the  women 


23  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS, 

joined  in,  and  as  they  bid  excitedly  against 
each  other  the  church  rang  with  opprobrious 
epithets.  A  man  would  come  to  the  roup 
late,  and  learn  that  the  seat  he  wanted  had  been 
knocked  down.  He  maintained  that  he  had 
been  unfairly  treated,  or  denounced  the  local 
laird  to  whom  the  seat-rents  went.  If  he  did 
not  get  the  seat  he  would  leave  the  kirk. 
Then  the  woman  who  had  forestalled  him 
wanted  to  know  what  he  meant  by  glaring 
at  her  so,  and  the  auction  was  interrupted. 
Another  member  would  "thrip  down  the 
throat  "  of  the  auctioneer  that  he  had  a  right 
to  his  former  seat  if  he  continued  to  pay  the 
same  price  for  it.  The  auctioneer  was 
screamed  at  for  favouring  his  friends,  and 
at  times  the  roup  became  so  noisy  that  men 
and  women  had  to  be  forcibly  ejected.  Then 
was  Pete's  chance.  Hovering  at  the  gate,  he 
caught  the  angry  people  on  their  way  home 
and  took  them  into  his  workshop  by  an 
outside  stair.  There  he  assisted  them  in 
denouncing  the  parish  kirk,  with  the  view  of 
getting  them  to  forswear  it.      Pete  made  a 


THRUMS.  23 

good  many  Auld  Lichts  in  his  time  out  of 
unpromising  material. 

Sights  were  to  be  witnessed  in  the  parish 
church  at  times  that  could  not  have  been 
made  more  impressive  by  the  Auld  Lichts 
themselves.  Here  sinful  women  were  grimly 
taken  to  task  by  the  minister,  who,  having 
thundered  for  a  time  against  adultery  in 
general,  called  upon  one  sinner  in  particular 
to  stand  forth.  She  had  to  step  forward  into 
a  pew  near  the  pulpit,  where,  alone  and 
friendless,  and  stared  at  by  the  congregation, 
she  cowered  in  tears  beneath  his  denuncia- 
tions. In  that  seat  she  had  to  remain  during 
the  forenoon  service.  She  returned  home 
alone,  and  had  to  come  back  alone  to  her 
solitary  seat  in  the  afternoon.  All  day  no 
one  dared  speak  to  her.  She  was  as  much 
an  object  of  contumely  as  the  thieves  and 
smugglers  whom,  in  the  end  of  last  century, 
it  was  the  privilege  of  Feudal  Bailie  Wood 
(as  he  was  called)  to  whip  round  the  square. 

It  is  nearly  twenty  years  since  the  gar- 
deners had  their  last  "  walk  "  in  Thrums,  and 


24  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

they  survived  all  the  other  benefit  societies 
that  walked  once  every  summer.  There  was 
a  "  weavers'  walk "  and  five  or  six  others, 
the  "  women's  walk "  being  the  most  pic- 
turesque. These  were  processions  of  the 
members  of  benefit  societies  through  the 
square  and  wynds,  and  all  the  women  walked 
in  white,  to  the  number  of  a  hundred  or 
more,  behind  the  Tilliedrum  band,  Thrums 
having  in  those  days  no  band  of  its  own. 

From  the  north-west  corner  of  the  square 
a  narrow  street  sets  off,  jerking  this  way  and 
that  as  if  uncertain  what  point  to  make  for. 
Here  lurks  the  post-office,  which  had  once 
the  reputation  of  being  as  crooked  in  its 
ways  as  the  street  itself. 

A  railway  line  runs  into  Thrums  now.  The 
sensational  days  of  the  post-office  were  when 
the  letters  were  conveyed  officially  in  a  creak- 
ing old  cart  from  Tilliedrum.  The  "pony" 
had  seen  better  days  than  the  cart,  and  always 
looked  as  if  he  were  just  on  the  point  of  suc- 
ceeding in  running  away  from  it.  Hooky 
Crewe  was  driver ;  so-called  because  an  iron 


THRUMS.  25 

hook  was  his  substitute  for  a  right  arm :  Robbie 
Proctor,  the  blacksmith,  made  the  hook  and 
fixed  it  in.  Crewe  suffered  from  rheumatism, 
and  when  he  felt  it  coming  on  he  stayed  at 
home.  Sometimes  his  cart  came  undone  in  a 
snowdrift ;  when  Hooky,  extricated  from  the 
fragments  by  some  chance  wayfarer,  was  de- 
posited with  his  mail-bag  (of  which  he  always 
kept  a  grip  by  the  hook)  in  a  farm-house.  It 
was  his  boast  that  his  letters  always  reached 
their  destination  eventually.  They  might  be  a 
long  time  about  it,  but  "  slow  and  sure  "  was 
his  motto.  Hooky  emphasized  his  "  slow  and 
sure  "  by  taking  a  snuff.  He  was  a  godsend 
to  the  postmistress,  for  to  his  failings  or  the 
infirmities  of  his  gig  were  charged  all  delays. 

At  the  time  I  write  of,  the  posting  of  the 
letter  took  as  long  and  was  as  serious  an  under- 
taking as  the  writing.  That  means  a  good 
deal,  for  many  of  the  letters  were  written  to 
dictation  by  the  Thrums  schoolmaster,  Mr. 
Fleemister,  who  belonged  to  the  Auld  Kirk. 
He  was  one  of  the  few  persons  in  the  com- 
munity who  looked  upon  the  despatch  of  his 


26  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

letters  by  the  postmistress  as  his  right,  and 
not  a  favour  on  her  part ;  there  was  a  long- 
standing feud  between  them  accordingly. 
Afterafewtumblers  of  Widow  Stables's  treacle- 
beer — in  the  concoction  of  which  she  was  tlie 
acknowledged  mistress  for  miles  around — the 
schoolmaster  would  sometimes  go  the  length 
of  hinting  that  he  could  get  the  postmistress 
dismissed  any  day.  This  mighty  power  seemed 
to  rest  on  a  knowledge  of  "  steamed  "  letters. 
Thrums  had  a  high  respect  for  the  school- 
master ;  but  among  themselves  the  weavers 
agreed  that,  even  if  he  did  write  to  the  Govern- 
ment, Lizzie  Harrison,  the  postmistress,  would 
refuse  to  transmit  the  letter.  The  more  shrewd 
ones  among  us  kept  friends  with  both  parties  ; 
for,  unless  you  could  write  "  writ-hand,"  you 
could  not  compose  a  letter  without  the  school- 
master's assistance  ;  and,  unless  Lizzie  was  so 
courteous  as  to  send  it  to  its  destination,  it 
might  lie — or  so  it  was  thought — much  too 
long  in  the  box.  A  letter  addressed  by  the 
schoolmaster  found  great  disfavour  in  Lizzie's 
eyes.     You  might  explain  to  her  that  you  had 


THRUMS.  Vj 

merely  called  in  his  assistance  because  you 
were  a  poor  hand  at  writing  yourself,  but 
that  was  held  no  excuse.  Some  addressed 
their  own  envelopes  with  much  labour,  and 
sought  to  palm  off  the  whole  as  their  handi- 
work. It  reflects  on  the  postmistress  somewhat 
that  she  had  generally  found  them  out  by 
next  day,  when,  if  in  a  specially  vixenish 
mood,  she  did  not  hesitate  to  upbraid  them 
for  their  perfidy. 

To  post  a  letter  you  did  not  merely  saunter 
to  the  post- office  and  drop  it  into  the  box. 
The  cautious  correspondent  first  went  into  the 
shop  and  explained  to  Lizzie  how  matters  stood. 
She  kept  what  she  called  a  bookseller's  shop 
as  well  as  the  post-office  ;  but  the  supply  of 
books  corresponded  exactly  to  the  lack  of 
demand  for  them,  and  her  chief  trade  was  in 
nicknacks,  from  marbles  and  money-boxes 
up  to  concertinas.  If  he  found  the  post- 
mistress in  an  amiable  mood,  which  was  only 
now  and  then,  the  caller  led  up  craftily 
to  the  object  of  his  visit.  Having  discussed 
the  weather  and  the  potato-disease,  he   ex- 


28  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

plained  that  his  sister  Mary,  whom  Lizzie 
would  remember,  had  married  a  fishmonger  in 
Dundee.  The  fishmonger  had  lately  started 
on  himself  and  was  doing  well.  They  had  four 
children.  The  youngest  had  had  a  severe 
attack  of  measles.  No  news  had  been  got 
of  Mary  for  twelve  months  ;  and  Annie,  his 
other  sister,  who  lived  in  Thrums,  had  been 
at  him  of  late  for  not  writing.  So  he  had 
written  a  few  lines ;  and,  in  fact,  he  had  the 
letter  with  him.  The  letter  was  then  pro- 
duced, and  examined  by  the  postmistress.  If 
the  address  was  in  the  schoolmaster's  hand- 
writing, she  professed  her  inability  to  read  it 
Was  this  a  /  or  an  /  or  an  i  ?  was  that  a  ^  or 
Sl  d}  This  was  a  cruel  revenge  on  Lizzie's 
part  ;  for  the  sender  of  the  letter  was  com- 
pletely at  her  mercy.  The  schoolmaster's 
name  being  tabooed  in  her  presence,  he  was 
unable  to  explain  that  the  writing  was  not  his 
own  ;  and  as  for  deciding  between  the  fs  and 
/'s,  he  could  not  do  it  Eventually  he  would 
be  directed  to  put  the  letter  into  the  box. 
They  would  do  their  best  with  it,  Lizzie  said, 


THRUMS.  ^ 

but  in  a  voice  that  suggested  how  little  hope 
she  had  of  her  efforts  to  decipher  it  proving 
successful. 

There  was  an  opinion  among  some  of  the 
people  that  the  letter  should  not  be  stamped 
by  the  sender.  The  proper  thing  to  do  was 
to  drop  a  penny  for  the  stamp  into  the  box 
along  with  the  letter,  and  then  Lizzie  would 
see  that  it  was  all  right.  Lizzie's  acquaintance 
with  the  handwriting  of  every  person  in  the 
place  who  could  write  gave  her  a  great 
advantage.  You  would  perhaps  drop  into  her 
shop  some  day  to  make  a  purchase,  when  she 
would  calmly  produce  a  letter  you  had  posted 
several  days  before.  In  explanation  she 
would  tell  you  that  you  had  not  put  a  stamp 
on  it,  or  that  she  suspected  there  was  money 
in  it,  or  that  you  had  addressed  it  to  the 
wrong  place.  I  remember  an  old  man,  a  rela- 
tive of  my  own,  who  happened  for  once  in  his 
life  to  have  several  letters  to  post  at  one  time. 
The  circumstance  was  so  out  of  the  common 
that  he  considered  it  only  reasonable  to  make 
Lizzie  a  small  present 


30  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

Perhaps  the  postmistress  was  belied ;  but 
if  she  did  not  "  steam  "  the  letters  and  confide 
their  titbits  to  favoured  friends  of  her  own 
sex,  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  all  the  gossip  got 
out.  The  schoolmaster  once  played  an  un- 
manly trick  on  her,  with  the  view  of  catching 
her  in  the  act.  He  was  a  bachelor  who  had 
long  been  given  up  by  all  the  maids  in  the 
town.  One  day,  however,  he  wrote  a  letter  to 
an  imaginary  lady  in  the  county-town,  asking 
her  to  be  his,  and  going  into  full  particulars 
about  his  income,  his  age,  and  his  prospects. 
A  male  friend  in  the  secret,  at  the  other  end, 
was  to  reply,  in  a  lady's  handwriting,  accepting 
him,  and  also  giving  personal  particulars.  The 
first  letter  was  written  ;  and  an  answer  arrived 
in  due  course — two  days,  the  schoolmaster 
said,  after  date.  No  other  person  knew  of 
this  scheme  for  the  undoing  of  the  post- 
mistress, yet  in  a  very  short  time  the  school- 
master's coming  marriage  was  the  talk  of 
Thrums.  Everybody  became  suddenly  aware 
of  the  lady's  name,  of  her  abode,  and  of  the 
sum  of  money  she  was   to    bring    her    hub- 


THRUMS.  31 

band.  It  was  even  noised  abroad  that  the 
schoolmaster  had  represented  his  age  as  a 
good  ten  years  less  than  it  was.  Then  the 
schoolmaster  divulged  everything.  To  his 
mortification,  he  was  not  quite  believed.  All 
the  proof  he  could  bring  forward  to  support 
his  story  was  this  :  that  time  would  show 
whether  he  got  married  or  not.  Foolish  man ! 
this  argument  was  met  by  another,  which 
was  accepted  at  once.  The  lady  had  jilted 
the  schoolmaster.  Whether  this  explanation 
came  from  the  post-office,  who  shall  say  ? 
But  so  long  as  he  lived  the  schoolmaster  was 
twitted  about  the  lady  who  threw  him  over. 
He  took  his  revenge  in  two  ways.  He  wrote 
and  posted  letters  exceedingly  abusive  of  the 
postmistress.  The  matter  might  be  libellous  ; 
but  then,  as  he  pointed  out,  she  would  incri- 
minate herself  if  she  "brought  him  up"  about 
it.  Probably  Lizzie  felt  his  other  insult  more. 
By  publishing  his  suspicions  of  her  on  every 
possible  occasion  he  got  a  {q^n  people  to  seal 
their  letters.  So  bitter  was  his  feeling  against 
her  that  he  was  even  willing  to  supply  the  wax. 


32  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

They  know  all  about  post-offices  in  Thrums 
now,  and  even  jeer  at  the  telegraph-boy's  uni- 
form. In  the  old  days  they  gathered  round 
him  when  he  was  seen  in  the  street,  and 
escorted  him  to  his  destination  in  triumph. 
That,  too,  was  after  Lizzie  had  gone  the  way 
of  all  the  earth.  But  perhaps  they  are  not 
even  yet  as  knowing  as  they  think  themselves. 
I  was  told  the  other  day  that  one  of  them 
took  out  a  postal  order,  meaning  to  send  the 
money  to  a  relative,  and  kept  the  order  as  a 
receipt. 

I  have  said  that  the  town  is  sometimes  full 
of  snow.  One  frosty  Saturday,  seven  years 
ago,  I  trudged  into  it  from  the  schoolhouse, 
and  on  the  Monday  morning  we  could  not 
see  Thrums  anywhere. 

I  was  in  one  of  the  proud  two-storied 
houses  in  the  place,  and  could  have  shaken 
hands  with  my  friends  without  from  the 
upper  windows.  To  get  out  of  doors  you 
had  to  walk  upstairs.  The  outlook  was  a 
sea  of  snow  fading  into  white  hills  and  sky, 
with  the  quarry  standing  out  red  and  ragged 


THRUMS.  33 

to  the  right  like  a  rock  in  the  ocean.  The 
Auld  Licht  manse  was  gone,  but  had  left  its 
garden-trees  behind,  their  lean  branches  soft 
with  snow.  Roofs  were  humps  in  the  white 
blanket.  The  spire  of  the  Established  Kirk 
stood  up  cold  and  stiff,  like  a  monument 
to  the  buried  inhabitants. 

Those  of  the  natives  who  had  taken  the 
precaution  of  conveying  spades  into  their 
houses  the  night  before,  which  is  my  plan  at 
the  schoolhouse,  dug  themselves  out  They 
hobbled  cautiously  over  the  snow,  sometimes 
sinking  into  it  to  their  knees,  when  they 
stood  still  and  slowly  took  in  the  situation. 
It  had  been  snowing  more  or  less  for  a  week, 
but  in  a  commonplace  kind  of  way,  and  they 
had  gone  to  bed  thinking  all  was  well.  This 
night  the  snow  must  have  fallen  as  if  the 
heavens  had  opened  up,  determined  to  shake 
themselves  free  of  it  for  ever. 

The  man  who  first  came  to  himself  and 

saw  what  was  to  be  done  was  young  Renders 

Ramsay.     Henders  had  no  fixed  occupation, 

being  but  an  *'orra  man"  about  the  place, 

4 


34  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLL.''. 

and  the  best  thing  known  of  him  \\>  that  /ns 
mother's  sister  was  a  Baptist.  He  feared 
God,  man,  nor  the  minister ;  and  all  the 
learning  he  had  was  obtained  from  assiduous 
study  of  a  grocer's  window.  But  for  one 
brief  day  he  had  things  his  own  way  in  the 
town,  or,  speaking  strictly,  on  the  top  of  it. 
With  a  spade,  a  broom,  and  a  pickaxe,  which 
sat  lightly  on  his  broad  shoulders  (he  was  not 
even  back-bent,  and  that  showed  him  no 
respectable  weaver),  Renders  delved  his  way 
to  the  nearest  house,  which  formed  one  of  a 
row,  and  addressed  the  inmates  down  the 
chimney.  They  had  already  been  clearing  it 
at  the  other  end,  or  his  words  would  have 
been  choked.  "  You're  snawed  up,  Davit," 
cried  Renders,  in  a  voice  thai  was  entirely 
businesslike  ;  "  hae  ye  a  spade  ?  "  A  con- 
versation ensued  up  and  down  this  unusual 
channel  of  communication.  The  unlucky 
householder,  taking  no  thought  of  the  mor- 
row, was  without  a  spade.  But  if  Renders 
would  clear  away  the  snow  from  his  door  he 
would  be  "varra  obleeged."     Renders,  how- 


THRUMS.  35 

ever,  had  to  come  to  terms  first.  "  The 
chairge  is  saxpence,  Davit,"  he  shouted. 
Then  a  haggling  ensued.  Henders  must  be 
neighbourly.  A  plate  of  broth,  now — or, 
say,  twopence.  But  Henders  was  obdurate. 
•'  I'se  nae  time  to  argy-bargy  wi'  ye,  Davit. 
Gin  ye're  no  willin'  to  say  saxpence,  I'm  aff 
to  Will'um  Pyatt's.  He's  buried  too."  So 
the  victim  had  to  make  up  his  mind  to  one 
of  two  things  :  he  must  either  say  saxpence 
or  remain  where  he  was. 

If  Henders  was  "  promised,"  he  took  good 
care  that  no  snowed-up  inhabitant  should 
perjure  himself.  He  made  his  way  to  a 
»vindow  first,  and,  clearing  the  snow  from 
the  top  of  it,  pointed  out  that  he  could  not 
conscientiously  proceed  further  until  the  debt 
had  been  paid.  "Money  doon,"  he  cried, 
as  soon  as  he  reached  a  pane  of  glass  ;  or, 
"  Come  awa  wi'  my  saxpence  noo." 

The  belief  that  this  day  had  not  come  to 
Henders  unexpectedly  was  borne  out  by  the 
method  of  the  crafty  callant.  His  charges 
varied    from    sixpence   to    half-a-crown,   ac- 


36  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

cording  to  the  wealth  and  status  of  his 
victims  ;  and  when,  later  on,  there  were  rivals 
in  the  snow,  he  had  the  discrimination  to 
reduce  his  minimum  fee  to  threepence.  He 
had  the  honour  of  digging  out  three  ministers 
at  one  shilling,  one  and  threepence,  and  two 
shillings  respectively. 

Half  a  dozen  times  within  the  next  fort- 
night the  town  was  reburied  in  snow.  This 
generally  happened  in  the  night-time ;  but 
the  inhabitants  were  not  to  be  caught  unpre- 
pared again.  Spades  stood  ready  to  their 
hands  in  the  morning,  and  they  fought  their 
way  above  ground  without  Henders  Ramsay's 
assistance.  To  clear  the  snow  from  the 
narrow  wynds  and  pends,  however,  was  a 
task  not  to  be  attempted  ;  and  the  Auld 
Lichts,  at  least,  rested  content  when  enough 
light  got  into  their  workshops  to  let  them  see 
where  their  looms  stood.  Wading  through 
beds  of  snow  they  did  not  much  mind  ;  but 
they  wondered  what  would  happen  to  their 
houses  when  the  thaw  came. 

The   thaw  was    slow    in    coming.      Snow 


THRUMS.  37 

during  the  night  and  several  degrees  of  frost 
by  day  were  what  Thrums  began  to  accept  as 
a  revised  order  of  nature.  Vainly  the  Thrums 
doctor,  whose  practice  extends  into  the  glens, 
made  repeated  attempts  to  reach  his  dis- 
tant patients,  twice  driving  so  far  into  the 
dreary  waste  that  he  could  neither  go  on  nor 
turn  back.  A  ploughman  who  contrived  to 
gallop  ten  miles  for  him  did  not  get  home  for 
a  week.  Between  the  town,  which  is  nowa- 
days an  agricultural  centre  of  some  im- 
portance, and  the  outlying  farms  communica- 
tion was  cut  off  for  a  month;  and  I  heard 
subsequently  of  one  farmer  who  did  not  see 
a  human  being,  unconnected  with  his  own 
farm,  for  seven  weeks.  The  schoolhouse,  which 
I  managed  to  reach  only  two  days  behind 
time,  was  closed  for  a  fortnight,  and  even 
in  Thrums  there  was  only  a  sprinkling  of 
scholars. 

On  Sundays  the  feeling  between  the  dif- 
ferent denominations  ran  high,  and  the  mid- 
dling good  folk  who  did  not  go  to  church 
counted  those  who  did.      In  the  Established 


38  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

Church  there  was  a  sparse  gathering,  who 
waited  in  vain  for  the  minister.  After  a  time 
it  got  abroad  that  a  flag  of  distress  was  flying 
from  the  manse,  and  then  they  saw  that  the 
minister  was  storm- staid.  An  office-bearer 
offered  to  conduct  service  ;  but  the  others 
present  thought  they  had  done  their  duty  and 
went  home.  The  U.  P.  bell  did  not  ring  at 
all,  and  the  kirk  gates  were  not  opened.  The 
Free  Kirk  did  bravely,  however.  The  attend- 
ance in  the  forenoon  amounted  to  seven, 
including  the  minister ;  but  in  the  afternoon 
there  was  a  turn-out  of  upwards  of  fifty. 
How  much  denominational  competition  had 
to  do  with  this,  none  can  say  ;  but  the  general 
opinion  was  that  this  muster  to  afternoon 
service  was  a  piece  of  vainglory.  Next 
Sunday  all  the  kirks  were  on  their  mettle, 
and,  though  the  snow  was  drifting  the  whole 
day,  services  were  general.  It  was  felt  that 
after  the  action  of  the  Free  Kirk  the 
Establisheds  and  the  U.  P.'s  must  show 
what  they  too  were  capable  of.  So,  when  the 
bells  rang  at  eleven  o'clock  and  two,  church- 


THRUMS.  39 

goers  began  to  pour  out  of  every  close.  If  I 
remember  aright,  the  victory  lay  with  the 
U.  P.'s  by  two  women  and  a  boy.  Of  course 
the  Auld  Lichts  mustered  in  as  great  force  as 
ever.  The  other  kirks  never  dreamt  of  com- 
peting with  them.  What  was  regarded  as  a 
judgment  on  the  Free  Kirk  for  its  boastful- 
ness  of  spirit  on  the  preceding  Sunday 
happened  during  the  forenoon.  While  the 
service  was  taking  place  a  huge  clod  of  snow 
slipped  from  the  roof  and  fell  right  against 
the  church  door.  It  was  some  time  before 
the  prisoners  could  make  up  their  minds  to 
leave  by  the  windows.  What  the  Auld  Lichts 
would  have  done  in  a  similar  predicament  I 
cannot  even  conjecture. 

That  was  the  first  warning  of  the  thaw. 
It  froze  again ;  there  was  more  snow ;  the 
thaw  began  in  earnest  ;  and  then  the  streets 
were  a  sight  to  see.  There  was  no  traffic  to 
turn  the  snow  to  slush,  and,  where  it  had  not 
been  piled  up  in  walls  a  few  feet  from  the 
houses,  it  remained  in  the  narrow  ways  till  it 
became  a  lake.     It  tried  to  escape  through 


40  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

doorways,  when  it  sank  slowly  into  the  floors. 
Gentle  breezes  created  a  ripple  on  its  surface, 
and  strong  winds  lifted  it  into  the  air  and 
flung  it  against  the  houses.  It  undermined 
the  heaps  of  clotted  snow  till  they  tottered 
like  icebergs  and  fell  to  pieces.  Men  made 
their  way  through  it  on  stilts.  Had  a  frost 
followed, the  result  would  have  been  appalling; 
but  there  was  no  more  frost  that  winter.  A 
fortnight  passed  before  the  place  looked  itself 
again,  and  even  then  congealed  snow  stood 
doggedly  in  the  streets,  while  the  country 
roads  were  like  newly  ploughed  fields  after 
rain.  The  heat  from  large  fires  soon  pene- 
trated through  roofs  of  slate  and  thatch  ;  and 
it  was  quite  a  common  thing  for  a  man  to  be 
flattened  to  the  ground  by  a  slithering  of 
snow  from  above  just  as  he  opened  his  door. 
But  it  had  seldom  more  than  ten  feet  to  fall. 
Most  interesting  of  all  was  the  novel  sensa- 
tion experienced  as  Thrums  began  to  assume 
its  familiar  aspect,  and  objects  so  long  buried 
that  they  had  been  half  forgotten  came  back 
to  view  and  use. 


THRUMS.  41 

Storm-stead  shows  used  to  emphasize  the 
severity  of  a  Thrums  winter.  As  the  name 
indicates,  these  were  gatherings  of  travelling 
booths  in  the  winter-time.  Half  a  century 
ago  the  country  was  overrun  by  itinerant 
showmen,  who  went  their  different  ways  in 
summer,  but  formed  little  colonies  in  the  cold 
weather,  when  they  pitched  their  tents  in  any 
empty  field  or  disused  quarry  and  huddled 
together  for  the  sake  of  warmth  :  not  that 
they  got  much  of  it.  Not  more  than  five 
winters  ago  we  had  a  storm-stead  show  on  a 
small  scale;  but  nowadays  the  farmers  are 
less  willing  to  give  these  wanderers  a  camping- 
place,  and  the  people  are  less  easily  drawn  to 
the  entertainments  provided,  by  fife  and  drum. 
The  colony  hung  together  until  it  was  starved 
out,  when  it  trailed  itself  elsewhere.  I  have 
often  seen  it  forming.  The  first  arrival  would  be 
what  was  popularly  known  as  "  Sam'l  Mann's 
Tumbling-Booth,"  with  its  tumblers,  jugglers, 
sword-swallowers,  and  balancers.  This  travel- 
ling show  visited  us  regularly  twice  a  year : 
once  in  summer  for  the  Muckle  Friday,  when 


42  A  ULD  LICH T  ID  J  'LLS. 

the  performers  were  gay  and  stout,  and  even 
the  horses  had  flesh  on  their  bones;  and  again 
in  the  "  back-end "  of  the  year,  when  cold 
and  hunger  had  taken  the  blood  from  their 
faces,  and  the  scraggy  dogs  that  whined  at 
their  side  were  lashed  for  licking  the  paint 
off  the  caravans.  While  the  storm-stead 
show  was  in  the  vicinity  the  villages  suffered 
from  an  invasion  of  these  dogs.  Nothing 
told  more  truly  the  dreadful  tale  of  the  show- 
man's life  in  winter.  Sam'l  Mann's  was  a  big 
show,  and  half  a  dozen  smaller  ones,  most  of 
which  were  familiar  to  us,  crawled  in  its 
wake.  Others  heard  of  its  whereabouts  and 
came  in  from  distant  parts.  There  was 
the  well-known  Gubbins  with  his  "A'  the 
World  in  a  Box:"  a  halfpenny  peepshow, 
in  which  all  the  world  was  represented  by 
Joseph  and  his  Brethren  (with  pit  and  coat), 
the  bombardment  of  Copenhagen,  the  Battle 
of  the  Nile,  Daniel  in  the  Den  of  Lions,  and 
Mount  Etna  in  eruption.  "  Aunty  Maggy's 
Whirligig  "  could  be  enjoyed  on  payment  of  an 
old  pair  of  boots,  a  collection  of  rags,  or  the 


THRUMS.  43 

like.  Besides  these  and  other  shows,  there 
were  the  wandering  minstrels,  most  of  whom 
were  "  Waterloo  veterans  "  wanting  arms  or  a 
leg.  I  remember  one  whose  arms  had  been 
"  smashed  by  a  thunderbolt  at  Jamaica." 
Queer  bent  old  dames,  who  superintended 
"  lucky  bags  "  or  told  fortunes,  supplied  the 
uncanny  element,  but  hesitated  to  call  them- 
selves witches,  for  there  can  still  be  seen  near 
Thrums  the  pool  where  these  unfortunates 
used  to  be  drowned,  and  in  the  session  book 
of  the  Glen  Quharity  kirk  can  be  read  an 
old  minute  announcing  that  on  a  certain 
Sabbath  there  was  no  preaching  because  "  the 
minister  was  away  at  the  burning  of  a  witch." 
To  the  storm-stead  shows  came  the  gypsies 
in  great  numbers,  Claypots  (which  is  a  cor- 
ruption of  Claypits)  was  their  headquarters 
near  Thrums,  and  it  is  still  sacred  to  their 
memory.  It  was  a  clachan  of  miserable  little 
huts  built  entirely  of  clay  from  the  dreary 
and  sticky  pit  in  which  they  had  been  flung 
together.  A  shapeless  hole  on  one  side  was 
the  doorway,  and  a  little  hole,  stuffed  with 


44  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

straw  in  winter,  the  window.  Some  of  the 
remnants  of  these  hovels  still  stand.  Their 
occupants,  though  they  went  by  the  name  of 
gypsies  among  themselves,  were  known  to  the 
weavers  as  the  Claypots  beggars  ;  and  their 
King  was  Jimmy  Pawse.  His  regal  dignity 
gave  Jimmy  the  right  to  seek  alms  first 
when  he  chose  to  do  so  ;  thus  he  got  the 
cream  of  a  place  before  his  subjects  set  to 
work.  He  was  rather  foppish  in  his  dress  ; 
generally  affecting  a  suit  of  grey  cloth  with 
showy  metal  buttons  on  it,  and  a  broad  blue 
bonnet  His  wife  was  a  little  body  like 
himself;  and  when  they  went  a-begging, 
Jimmy  with  a  meal-bag  for  alms  on  his  back, 
she  always  took  her  husband's  arm.  Jimmy 
was  the  legal  adviser  of  his  subjects  ;  his 
decision  was  considered  final  on  all  questions, 
and  he  guided  them  in  their  courtships  as 
well  as  on  their  death-beds.  He  christened 
their  children  and  officiated  at  their  weddings, 
marrying  them  over  the  tongs. 

The  storm-stead   show  attracted  old   and 
young — to  looking  on  from  the  outside.     In 


THRUMS.  45 

the  daytime  the  wagons  and  tents  presented 
a  dreary  appearance,  sunk  in  snow,  the  dogs 
shivering  between  the  wheels,  and  but  little 
other  sign  of  life  visible.  When  dusk  came  the 
lights  were  lit,  and  the  drummer  and  fifer  from 
the  booth  of  tumblers  were  sent  into  the 
town  to  entice  an  audience.  They  marched 
quickly  through  the  nipping,  windy  streets, 
and  then  returned  with  two  or  three  score  of 
men,  women,  and  children,  plunging  through 
the  snow  or  mud  at  their  heavy  heels.  It 
was  Orpheus  fallen  from  his  high  estate. 
What  a  mockery  the  glare  of  the  lamps  and 
the  capers  of  the  mountebacks  were,  and 
how  satisfied  were  we  to  enjoy  it  all  with- 
out going  inside.  I  hear  the  "  Waterloo 
veterans"  still,  and  remember  their  patriotic 
outbursts : — 


On  the  sixteenth  day  of  June,  brave  boys,  while  cannon 

loud  did  roar, 
We  being  short  of  cavalry  they  pressed  on  us  full  sore ; 
But    British    steel  soon  made  them  yield,   though    our 

numbers  was  but  few, 
And  death  or  victory    was  the  word   on  the  plains  oi 

Waterloo. 


46  A  ULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

The  storm-stead  shows  often  found  it  easier 
to  sink  to  rest  in  a  field  than  to  leave  it. 
For  weeks  at  a  time  they  were  snowed  up, 
sufficiently  to  prevent  any  one  from  Thrums 
going  near  them,  though  not  sufficiently  to 
keep  the  pallid  mummers  indoors.  That 
would  in  many  cases  have  meant  starvation. 
They  managed  to  fight  their  way  through 
storm  and  snowdrift  to  the  high  road  and 
thence  to  the  town,  where  they  got  meal 
and  sometimes  broth.  The  tumblers  and 
jugglers  used  occasionally  to  hire  an  out- 
house in  the  town  at  these  times — you  may 
be  sure  they  did  not  pay  for  it  in  advance — 
and  give  performances  there.  It  is  a  curious 
thing,  but  true,  that  our  herd-boys  and  others 
were  sometimes  struck  with  the  stage-fever. 
Thrums  lost  boys  to  the  showmen  even  in 
winter. 

On  the  whole,  the  farmers  and  the  people 
generally  were  wonderfully  long-suffering  with 
these  wanderers,  who  I  believe  were  more 
honest  than  was  to  be  expected.  They  stole, 
certainly ;  but  seldom  did  they  steal  anything 


THRUMS.  47 

more  valuable  than  turnips.  Sam'l  Mann 
himself  flushed  proudly  over  the  effect  his 
show  once  had  on  an  irate  farmer.  The 
farmer  appeared  in  the  encampment,  whip 
in  hand  and  furious.  They  must  get  off 
his  land  before  nightfall.  The  crafty  show- 
man, however,  prevailed  upon  him  to  take  a 
look  at  the  acrobats,  and  he  enjoyed  the 
performance  so  much  that  he  offered  to  let 
them  stay  until  the  end  of  the  week.  Before 
that  time  came  there  was  such  a  fall  of  snow 
that  departure  was  out  of  the  question ;  and 
it  is  to  the  farmer's  credit  that  he  sent  Sam'l 
a  bag  of  meal  to  tide  him  and  his  actors 
over  the  storm. 

There  were  times  when  the  showmen  made 
a  tour  of  the  bothies,  where  they  slung 
their  poles  and  ropes  and  gave  their  poor 
performances  to  audiences  that  were  not 
critical.  The  bothy  being  strictly  the  "  man's  ** 
castle,  the  farmer  never  interfered  ;  indeed,  he 
was  sometimes  glad  to  see  the  show.  Every 
other  weaver  in  Thrums  used  to  have  a  son  a 
ploughman,  and  it   was   the   men  from   the 


48  A  ULD  LICH  T  ID  YLLS. 

bothies  who  filled  the  square  on  the  muckly. 
"  Hands  "  are  not  huddled  together  nowadays 
in  squalid  barns  more  like  cattle  than  men 
and  women,  but  bothies  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Thrums  are  not  yet  things  of  the  past. 
Many  a  ploughman  delves  his  way  to  and 
from  them  still  in  all  weathers,  when  the  snow 
is  on  the  ground  ;  at  the  time  of  "  hairst,"  and 
when  the  turnip  "shaws"  have  just  forced 
themselves  through  the  earth,  looking  like 
straight  rows  of  green  needles.  Here  is  a 
picture  of  a  bothy  of  to-day  that  I  visited 
recently.  Over  the  door  there  is  a  water- 
spout that  has  given  way,  and  as  I  entered 
I  got  a  rush  of  rain  down  my  neck.  The 
passage  was  so  small  that  one  could  easily 
have  stepped  from  the  doorway  on  to  the 
ladder  standing  against  the  wall,  which  was 
there  in  lieu  of  a  staircase.  "  Upstairs  "  was 
a  mere  garret,  where  a  man  could  not 
stand  erect  even  in  the  centre.  It  was  en- 
tered by  a  square  hole  in  the  ceiling,  at 
present  closed  by  a  clap-door  in  no  way 
dissimilar  to    the   trap-doors    on   a    theatre 


THRUMS*  49 

stage.  I  climbed  into  this  garret,  which  is  at 
present  used  as  a  store-room  for  agricultural 
odds  and  ends.  At  harvest-time,  however,  it 
is  inhabited — full  to  overflowing.  A  few 
decades  ago  as  many  as  fifty  labourers  en- 
gaged for  the  harvest  had  to  be  housed  in 
the  farm  out-houses  on  beds  of  straw.  There 
was  no  help  for  it,  and  men  and  women  had 
to  congregate  in  these  barns  together.  Up 
as  early  as  five  in  the  morning,  they  were 
generally  dead  tired  by  night ;  and,  miserable 
though  this  system  of  herding  them  together 
was,  they  took  it  like  stoics,  and  their 
very  number  served  as  a  moral  safeguard. 
Nowadays  the  harvest  is  gathered  in  so 
quickly,  and  machinery  does  so  much  that 
used  to  be  done  by  hand,  that  this  crowding 
of  labourers  together,  which  was  the  bothy 
system  at  its  worst,  is  nothing  like  what  it 
was.  As  many  as  six  or  eight  men,  however, 
are  put  up  in  the  garret  referred  to  during 
"  hairst  "-time,  and  the  female  labourers  have 
to  make  the  best  of  it  in  the  bam.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  on  many  farms  the  two  sexes 
S 


50  AULD  LICm  IDYLLS. 

have  still  at  this  busy  time  to  herd  together 
even  at  night 

The  bothy  was  but  scantily  furnished, 
though  it  consisted  of  two  rooms.  In  the 
one,  which  was  used  almost  solely  as  a 
sleeping  apartment,  there  was  no  furniture 
to  speak  of,  beyond  two  closet  beds,  and 
its  bumpy  earthen  floor  gave  it  a  cheer- 
less look.  The  other,  which  had  a  single 
bed,  was  floored  with  wood.  It  was  not  badly 
lit  by  two  very  small  windows  that  faced 
each  other,  and,  besides  several  stools,  there 
was  a  long  form  against  one  of  the  walls,  A 
bright  fire  of  peat  and  coal — nothing  in  the 
world  makes  such  a  cheerful  red  fire  as  this 
combination — burned  beneath  a  big  kettle 
("  boiler  "  they  called  it),  and  there  was  a 
"  press"  or  cupboard  containing  a  fair  assort- 
ment of  cooking  utensils.  Of  tliese  some 
belonged  to  the  bothy,  while  others  were  the 
private  property  of  the  tenants.  A  tin  "  pan  " 
and  "  pitcher  "  of  water  stood  near  the  door, 
and  the  table  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
was  covered  with  oilcloth. 


THRUMS.  51 

Four  men  and  a  boy  inhabited  this  bothy, 
and  the  rain  had  driven  them  all  indoors. 
In  better  weather  they  spend  the  leisure  of 
the  evening  at  the  game  of  quoits,  which  is 
the  standard  pastime  among  Scottish  plough- 
men. They  fish  the  neighbouring  streams, 
too,  and  have  burn -trout  for  supper  several 
times  a  week.  When  I  entered,  two  of  them 
were  sitting  by  the  fire  playing  draughts, 
or,  as  they  called  it,  "the  dam-brod."  The 
dam-brod  is  the  Scottish  labourer's  billiards ; 
and  he  often  attains  to  a  remarkable  proficiency 
at  the  game.  Wylie,  the  champion  draught- 
player,  was  once  a  herd-boy  ;  and  wonderful 
stories  are  current  in  all  bothies  of  the  times 
when  his  master  called  him  into  the  farm- 
parlour  to  show  his  skill.  A  third  man, 
who  seemed  the  elder  by  quite  twenty  years, 
was  at  the  window  reading  a  new^spaper  ;  and 
I  got  no  shock  when  I  saw  that  it  was  the 
Saturday  Review,  which  he  and  a  labourer  on 
an  adjoining  farm  took  in  weekly  between 
them.  There  was  a  copy  of  a  local  news- 
paper— W\Q People' s  Journal — also  lying  about, 


52  A  ULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

and  some  books,  including  one  of  Darwin's. 
These  were  all  the  property  of  this  man, 
however,  who  did  the  reading  for  the  bothy. 
They  did  all  the  cooking  for  themselves, 
living  largely  on  milk.  In  the  old  days, 
which  the  senior  could  remember,  porridge 
was  so  universally  the  morning  meal  that 
they  called  it  by  that  name  instead  of  break- 
last.  They  still  breakfast  on  porridge,  but 
often  take  tea  "  above  it"  Generally  milk  is 
taken  with  the  porridge  ;  but  "  porter "  or 
stout  in  a  bowl  is  no  uncommon  substitute. 
Potatoes  at  twelve  o'clock — seldom  "brose" 
nowadays — are  the  staple  dinner  dish,  and 
the  tinned  meats  have  become  very  popular. 
There  are  bothies  where  each  man  makes 
his  own  food  ;  but  of  course  the  more  satis- 
factory plan  is  for  them  to  club  together. 
Sometimes  they  get  their  food  in  the  farm- 
kitchen  ;  but  this  is  only  when  there  are 
few  of  them  and  the  farmer  and  his  family 
do  not  think  it  beneath  them  to  dine  with 
the  men.  Broth,  too,  may  be  made  in  the 
kitchen    and   sent  down    to   the   bothy.     At 


THRUMS.  53 

harvest-time  the  workers  take  their  food  in 
the  fields,  when  great  quantities  of  milk  are 
provided.  There  is  very  little  beer  drunk, 
and  whisky  is  only  consumed  in  privacy. 

Life  in  the  bothies  is  not,  I  should  say,  so 
lonely  as  life  at  the  schoolhouse,  for  the 
hands  have  at  least  each  other's  company. 
The  hawker  visits  them  frequently  still, 
though  the  itinerant  tailor,  once  a  familiar 
figure,  has  almost  vanished.  Their  great  place 
of  congregating  is  still  some  country  smiddy, 
which  is  also  their  frequent  meeting-place 
when  bent  on  black-fishing.  The  flare  of 
the  black-fisher's  torch  still  attracts  salmon 
to  their  death  in  the  rivers  near  Thrums  ; 
and  you  may  hear  in  the  glens  on  a  dark 
night  the  rattle  of  the  spears  on  the  wet 
stones.  Twenty  or  thirty  years  ago,  however, 
the  sport  was  much  more  common.  After 
the  farmer  had  gone  to  bed,  some  half-dozen 
ploughmen  and  a  few  other  poachers  from 
Thrums  would  set  out  for  the  meeting-place. 

The  smithy  on  these  occasions  must  have 
been  a  weird  sight ;  though  one  did  not  mark 


54  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

that  at  the  time.  The  poacher  crept  from 
the  darkness  into  the  glaring  smithy  light  ; 
for  in  country  parts  the  anvil  might  some- 
times be  heard  clanging  at  all  hours  of  the 
night.  As  a  rule,  every  face  was  blackened  ; 
and  it  was  this,  I  suppose,  rather  than  the 
fact  that  dark  nights  were  chosen  that  gave 
the  gangs  the  name  of  black-fishers.  Other 
disguises  were  resorted  to  ;  one  of  the  com- 
monest being  to  change  clothes  or  to  turn 
your  corduroys  outside  in.  The  country-folk 
of  those  days  were  more  superstitious  than 
they  are  now,  and  it  did  not  take  much  to 
turn  the  black-fishers  back.  There  was  not 
a  barn  or  byre  in  the  district  that  had  not  its 
horseshoe  over  the  door.  Another  popular 
device  for  frightening  away  witches  and 
fairies  was  to  hang  bunches  of  garlic  about 
the  farms.  I  have  known  a  black-fishing 
expedition  stopped  because  a  "  yellow  yite," 
or  yellowhammer,  hovered  round  the  gang 
when  they  were  setting  out.  Still  more 
ominous  was  the  "peat"  when  it  appeared 
with    one    or    three    companions.      An    old 


THRUMS.  55 

rhyme  about  this  bird  runs — "One  is  joy, 
two  is  grief,  three's  a  bridal,  four  is  death." 
Such  snatches  of  superstition  are  still  to  be 
heard  amidst  the  gossip  of  a  north-country 
smithy. 

Each  black-fisher  brought  his  own  spear 
and  torch,  both  more  or  less  home-made. 
The  spears  were  in  many  cases  "gully-knives," 
fastened  to  staves  with  twine  and  resin,  called 
"  rozet."  The  torches  were  very  rough-and- 
ready  things — rope  and  tar,  or  even  rotten 
roots  dug  from  broken  trees — in  fact,  any- 
thing that  would  flare.  The  black-fishers 
seldom  journeyed  far  from  home,  confining 
themselves  to  the  rivers  within  a  radius  of 
three  or  four  miles.  There  were  many 
reasons  for  this :  one  of  them  being  that 
the  hands  had  to  be  at  their  work  on  the 
farm  by  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  ;  another, 
that  so  they  poached  and  let  poach.  Ex- 
cept when  in  spate,  the  river  I  specially 
refer  to  offered  no  attractions  to  the  black- 
fishers.  Heavy  rains,  however,  swell  it  much 
more  quickly   than    most    rivers  into  a  tur- 


56  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

bulent  rush  of  water  ;  the  part  of  it  af- 
fected by  the  black-fishers  being  banked  in 
with  rocks  that  prevent  the  water's  spreading. 
Above  these  rocks,  <igain,  are  heavy  green 
banks,  from  which  stunted  trees  grow  aslant 
across  the  river.  The  effect  is  fearsome  at 
some  points  where  the  trees  run  into  each 
other,  as  it  were,  from  opposite  banks.  How- 
ever, the  black-fishers  thought  nothing  of 
these  things.  They  took  a  turnip  lantern 
with  them — that  is,  a  lantern  hollowed  out  of 
a  turnip,  with  a  piece  of  candle  inside — but 
no  lights  were  shown  on  the  road.  Every 
one  knew  his  way  to  the  river  blindfold  ;  so 
that  the  darker  the  night  the  better.  On 
reaching  the  water  there  was  a  pause.  One 
or  two  of  the  gang  climbed  the  banks  to 
discover  if  any  bailiffs  were  on  the  watch ; 
while  the  others  sat  down,  and  with  the  help 
of  the  turnip  lantern  "  busked  "  their  spears  ; 
in  other  words,  fastened  on  the  steel — or, 
it  might  be,  merely  pieces  of  rusty  iron 
sharpened  into  a  point  at  home — to  the 
staves.     Some  had  them  busked  before  they 


THRUMS.  57 

set  out,  but  that  was  not  considered  prudent ; 
for  of  course  there  was  always  a  risk  of 
meeting  spoil-sports  on  the  way,  to  whom 
the  spears  would  tell  a  tale  that  could  not  be 
learned  from  ordinary  staves.  Nevertheless 
little  time  was  lost  Five  or  six  of  the  gang 
waded  into  the  water,  torch  in  one  hand  and 
spear  in  the  other ;  and  the  object  now  was 
to  catch  some  salmon  with  the  least  possible 
delay,  and  hurry  away.  Windy  nights  were 
good  for  the  sport,  and  I  can  still  see  the  river 
lit  up  with  the  lumps  of  light  that  a  torch 
makes  in  a  high  wind.  The  torches,  of  course, 
were  used  to  attract  the  fish,  which  came  swim- 
ming to  the  sheen,  and  were  then  speared.  As 
little  noise  as  possible  was  made  ;  but  though 
the  men  bit  their  lips  instead  of  crying  out 
when  they  missed  their  fish,  there  was  a  con- 
tinuous ring  of  their  weapons  on  the  stones, 
and  every  irrepressible  imprecation  was 
echoed  up  and  down  the  black  glen.  Two 
or  three  of  the  gang  were  told  off  to  land 
the  salmon,  and  they  had  to  work  smartly 
and  deftly.     They  kept  by  the  side   of  the 


58  AULD  LICHT  IDYLLS. 

spearsman,  and  the  moment  he  struck  a  fish 
they  grabbed  at  it  with  their  hands.  When 
the  spear  had  a  barb  there  was  less  chance  of 
the  fish's  being  lost  ;  but  often  this  was  not 
the  case,  and  probably  not  more  than  two- 
thirds  of  the  salmon  speared  were  got  safely 
to  the  bank.  The  takes  of  course  varied ; 
sometimes,  indeed,  the  black-fishers  returned 
home  empty-handed. 

Encounters  with  the  bailiffs  were  not  in- 
frequent, though  they  seldom  took  place  at 
the  water's  edge.  When  the  poachers  were 
caught  in  the  act,  and  had  their  blood  up 
with  the  excitement  of  the  sport,  they  were 
ugly  customers.  Spears  were  used  and  heads 
were  broken.  Struggles  even  took  place  in 
the  water,  when  there  was  always  a  chance 
of  somebody's  being  drowned.  Where  the 
bailiffs  gave  the  black-fishers  an  opportunity 
of  escaping  without  a  fight  it  was  nearly 
always  taken  ;  the  booty  being  left  behind. 
As  a  rule,  when  the  "  water-watchers,"  as  the 
bailiffs  were  sometimes  called,  had  an  inkling 
of  what  was  to   take  place,  they  reinforced 


THRUMS,  59 

themselves  with  a  constable  or  two  and 
waited  on  the  road  to  catch  the  poachers  on 
iheir  way  home.  One  black-fisher,  a  noted 
character,  was  nicknamed  the  "Dei!  o'  Glen 
Quharity."  He  was  said  to  have  gone  to 
the  houses  of  the  bailiffs  and  offered  to 
sell  them  the  fish  stolen  from  the  streams 
over  which  they  kept  guard.  The  "  Deil " 
was  never  imprisoned — partly,  perhaps,  be- 
cause he  was  too  eccentric  to  be  taken 
seriously. 


CHAPTER  IIL 

THE  AULD  LIGHT  KIRK. 

One  Sabbath  day  in  the  beginning  of  the 
century  the  Auld  Licht  minister  at  Thrums 
walked  out  of  his  battered,  ramshackle, 
earthen-floored  kirk  with  a  following  and 
never  returned.  The  last  words  he  uttered 
in  it  were  :  "  Follow  me  to  the  commonty, 
all  you  persons  who  want  to  hear  the  Word 
of  God  properly  preached ;  and  James 
Duphie  and  his  two  sons  will  answer  for 
this  on  the  Day  of  Judgment."  The  con- 
gregation, which  belonged  to  the  body  who 
seceded  from  the  Established  Church  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  ago,  had  split,  and  as  the 
New  Lights  (now  the  U.  P.'s)  were  in  the 
majority,  the  Old  Lights,  with  the  minister 
at  their  head,  had  to  retire  to  the  commonty 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  6l 

(or  common)  and  hold  service  in  the  open  air 
until  they  had  saved  up  money  for  a  church. 
They  kept  possession,  however,  of  the  white 
manse  among  the  trees.  Their  kirk  has  but 
a  cluster  of  members  now,  most  of  them  old 
and  done,  but  each  is  equal  to  a  dozen  ordi- 
nary church-goers,  and  there  have  been  men 
and  women  among  them  on  whom  the  memory 
loves  to  linger.  For  forty  years  they  have 
been  dying  out,  but  their  cold,  stiff  pews  still 
echo  the  Psalms  of  David,  and  the  Auld 
Licht  kirk  will  remain  open  so  long  as  it 
has  one  member  and  a  minister. 

The  church  stands  round  the  corner  Irom 
the  square,  with  only  a  large  door  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  the  other  buildings  in  the 
short  street.  Children  who  want  to  do  a 
brave  thing  hit  this  door  with  their  fists,  when 
there  is  no  one  near,  and  then  run  away 
scared.  The  door,  however,  is  sacred  to  the 
memory  of  a  white-haired  old  lady  who,  not 
so  long  ago,  used  to  march  out  of  the  kirk 
and  remain  on  the  pavement  until  the  psalm 
which  had  just  been  given  out  was  sung.     Of 


62  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

Thrums's  pavement  it  may  here  be  said  that 
when  you  come,  even  to  this  day,  to  a  level 
slab  you  feel  reluctant  to  leave  it.  The  old 
lady  was  Mistress  (which  is  Miss)  Tibbie 
McQuhatty,  and  she  nearly  split  the  Auld 
Licht  kirk  over  "  run  line."  This  con- 
spicuous innovation  was  introduced  by  Mr. 
Dishart,  the  minister,  when  he  was  young 
and  audacious.  The  old,  reverent  custom 
in  the  kirk  was  for  the  precentor  to  read  out 
the  psalm  a  line  at  a  time.  Having  then 
sung  that  line  he  read  out  the  next  one,  led  the 
singing  of  it,  and  so  worked  his  way  on  to 
line  three.  Where  run  line  holds,  however, 
the  psalm  is  read  out  first,  and  forthwith 
sung.  This  is  not  only  a  flighty  way  of  doing 
things,  which  may  lead  to  greater  scandals, 
but  has  its  practical  disadvantages,  for  the  pre- 
centor always  starts  singing  in  advance  of  the 
congregation  (Auld  Lichts  never  being  able 
to  begin  to  do  anything  all  at  once),  and,  in- 
creasing the  distance  with  every  line,  leaves 
them  hopelessly  behind  at  the  finish.  Miss 
McQuhatty  protested  against  this  change,  as 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  63 

meeting  the  devil  half  way,  but  the  minister 
carried  his  point,  and  ever  after  that  she 
rushed  ostentatiously  from  the  church  the 
moment  a  psalm  was  given  out,  and  re- 
mained behind  the  door  until  the  singing  was 
finished,  when  she  returned,  with  a  rustle,  to 
her  seat.  Run  line  had  on  her  the  effect  of 
the  reading  of  the  Riot  Act.  Once  some  men, 
capable  of  anything,  held  the  door  from  the 
outside,  and  the  congregation  heard  Tibbie 
rampaging  in  the  passage.  Bursting  into  the 
kirk  she  called  the  office-bearers  to  her  assist- 
ance, whereupon  the  minister  in  miniature 
raised  his  voice  and  demanded  the  why  and 
wherefore  of  the  ungodly  disturbance.  Great 
was  the  hubbub,  but  the  door  was  fast,  and  a 
compromise  had  to  be  arrived  at  The  old 
lady  consented  for  once  to  stand  in  the 
passage,  but  not  without  pressing  her  hands 
to  her  ears.  You  may  smile  at  Tibbie,  but  ah ! 
I  know  what  she  was  at  a  sick  bedside.  I 
have  seen  her  when  the  hard  look  had  gone 
from  her  eyes,  and  it  would  ill  become  me  to 
smile  too. 


54  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

As  with  all  the  churches  in  Thrums,  care 
had  been  taken  to  make  the  Auld  Licht  one 
much  too  large.  The  stair  to  the  "laft"or 
gallery,  which  was  originally  little  more  than 
a  ladder,  is  ready  for  you  as  soon  as  you  enter 
the  doorway,  but  it  is  best  to  sit  in  the  body 
of  the  kirk.  The  plate  for  collections  is  in- 
side the  church,  so  that  the  whole  congrega- 
tion can  give  a  guess  at  what  you  give.  If  it 
is  something  very  stingy  or  very  liberal,  all 
Thrums  knows  of  it  within  a  few  hours ; 
indeed,  this  holds  good  of  all  the  churches, 
especially  perhaps  of  the  Free  one,  which  has 
been  called  the  bawbee  kirk,  because  so  many 
halfpennies  find  their  way  into  the  plate.  On 
Saturday  nights  the  Thrums  shops  are  be- 
sieged for  coppers  by  housewives  of  all  de- 
nominations, who  would  as  soon  think  of 
dropping  a  threepenny  bit  into  the  plate  as 
of  giving  nothing.  Tammy  Todd  had  a 
curious  way  of  tipping  his  penny  into  the 
Auld  Licht  plate  while  still  keeping  his  hand 
to  his  side.  He  did  it  much  as  a  boy  fires  a 
marble,  and  there  was  quite  a  talk  in  the 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  65 

congregation  the  first  time  he  missed.  A 
devout  plan  was  to  carry  your  penny  in  your 
hand  all  the  way  to  church,  but  to  appear  to 
take  it  out  of  your  pocket  on  entering,  and  some 
plumped  it  down  noisily  like  men  paying  their 
way.  I  believe  old  Snecky  Hobart,  who  was 
a  canty  stock  but  obstinate,  once  dropped  a 
penny  into  the  plate  and  took  out  a  half- 
penny as  change,  but  the  only  untoward 
thing  that  happened  to  the  plate  was  once 
when  the  lassie  from  the  farm  of  Curly 
Bog  capsized  it  in  passing.  Mr.  Dishart,  who 
was  always  a  ready  man,  introduced  some- 
thing into  his  sermon  that  day  about  women's 
dress,  which  every  one  hoped  Christy  Lundy, 
the  lassie  in  question,  would  remember. 
Nevertheless,  the  minister  sometimes  came 
to  a  sudden  stop  himself  when  passing  from 
the  vestry  to  the  pulpit.  The  passage  being 
narrow,  his  rigging  would  catch  in  a  pew  as  he 
sailed  down  the  aisle.  Even  then,  however, 
Mr.  Dishart  remembered  that  he  was  not  as 
other  men. 

White  is  not  a   religious  colour,  and  the 
6 


66  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

walls  of  the  kirk  were  of  a  dull  grey.  A 
cushion  was  allowed  to  the  manse  pew,  but 
merely  as  a  symbol  of  office,  and  this  was  the 
only  pew  in  the  church  that  had  a  door.  It 
was  and  is  the  pew  nearest  to  the  pulpit  on 
the  minister's  right,  and  one  day  it  contained  a 
bonnet  which  Mr.  Dishart's  predecessor 
preached  at  for  one  hour  and  ten  minutes. 
From  the  pulpit,  which  was  swaddled  in 
black,  the  minister  had  a  fine  sweep  of  all 
the  congregation  except  those  in  the  back 
pews  downstairs,  who  were  lost  in  the 
shadow  of  the  laft.  Here  sat  Whinny  Webster, 
so  called  because,  having  an  inexplicable 
passion  against  them,  he  devoted  his  life  to 
the  extermination  of  whins.  Whinny  for 
years  ate  peppermint  lozenges  with  im- 
punity in  his  back  seat,  safe  in  the  certainty 
that  the  minister,  however  much  he  might 
try,  could  not  possibly  see  him.  But  his  day 
came.  One  afternoon  the  kirk  smelt  of 
peppermints,  and  Mr.  Dishart  could  rebuke 
no  one,  for  the  defaulter  was  not  in  sight. 
Whinny's  cheek  was  working  up  and  down 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  67 

in  quiet  enjoyment  of  its  lozenge,  when  he 
started,  noticing  that  the  preaching  had 
stopped.  Then  he  heard  a  sepulchral  voice  say 
"  Charles  Webster  !  "  Whinny's  eyes  turned 
to  the  pulpit,  only  part  of  which  was  visible 
to  him,  and  to  his  horror  they  encountered 
the  minister's  head  coming  down  the  stairs. 
This  took  place  after  I  had  ceased  to  attend 
the  Auld  Licht  kirk  regularly  ;  but  I  am  told 
that  as  Whinny  gave  one  wild  scream  the 
peppermint  dropped  from  his  mouth.  The 
minister  had  got  him  by  leaning  over  the 
pulpit  door  until,  had  he  given  himself  only 
another  inch,  his  feet  would  have  gone  into 
the  air.  As  for  Whinny  he  became  a  God- 
fearing man. 

The  most  uncanny  thing  about  the  kirk 
was  the  precentor's  box  beneath  the  pulpit. 
Three  Auld  Licht  ministers  I  have  known, 
but  I  can  only  conceive  one  precentor.  Lang 
Tammas's  box  was  much  too  small  for  him. 
Since  his  disappearance  from  Thrums  I  be- 
lieve they  have  paid  him  the  compliment  of 
enlarging  it  for  a  smaller  man — no  doubt  with 


68  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

the  feeling  that  Tammas  alone  could  look 
like  a  Christian  in  it.  Like  the  whole  congre- 
gation, of  course,  he  had  to  stand  during  the 
prayers — the  first  of  which  averaged  half  an 
hour  in  length.  If  he  stood  erect  his  head 
and  shoulders  vanished  beneath  funereal 
trappings,  when  he  seemed  decapitated,  and 
if  he  stretched  his  neck  the  pulpit  tottered. 
He  looked  like  the  pillar  on  which  it  rested, 
or  he  balanced  it  on  his  head  like  a  baker's 
tray.  Sometimes  he  leaned  forward  as  reve- 
rently as  he  could,  and  then,  with  his  long 
lean  arms  dangling  over  the  side  of  his  box, 
he  might  have  been  a  suit  of  "  blacks  "  hung 
up  to  dry.  Once  I  was  talking  with  Cree 
Queery  in  a  sober,  respectable  manner,  when 
all  at  once  a  light  broke  out  on  his  face.  I 
asked  him  what  he  was  laughing  at,  and  he 
said  it  was  at  Lang  Tammas.  He  got  grave 
again  when  I  asked  him  what  tliere  was  in 
Lang  Tammas  to  smile  at,  and  admitted  that 
he  could  not  tell  me.  However,  I  have  al- 
ways been  of  opinion  that  the  thought  of  the 
precentor  in  his  box  gave  Cree  a  fleeting 
sense  of  humour. 


THE  A  ULD  LICHT  KIRK,  69 

Tammas  and  Hendry  Munn  were  the  two 
paid  officials  of  the  church,  Hendry  being 
kirk-officer ;  but  poverty  was  among  the  few 
points  they  had  in  common.  The  precentor 
was  a  cobbler,  though  he  never  knew  it,  shoe- 
maker being  the  name  in  those  parts,  and  his 
dwelling-room  was  also  his  workshop.  There 
he  sat  in  his  "brot,"  or  apron,  from  early 
morning  to  far  on  to  midnight,  and  contrived 
to  make  his  six  or  eight  shillings  a  week.  I 
have  often  sat  with  him  in  the  darkness  that 
his  "  cruizey "  lamp  could  not  pierce,  while 
his  mutterings  to  himself  of  "  ay,  ay,  yes, 
umpha,  oh  ay,  ay  man,"  came  as  regularly 
and  monotonously  as  the  tick  of  his  "  wag-at- 
the-wa'  "  clock.  Hendry  and  he  were  paid 
no  fixed  sum  for  their  services  in  the  Auld 
Licht  kirk,  but  once  a  year  there  was  a  col- 
lection for  each  of  them,  and  so  they  jogged 
along.  Though  not  the  only  kirk-officer  of 
my  time  Hendry  made  the  most  lasting  im- 
pression. He  was,  I  think,  the  only  man  in 
Thrums  who  did  not  quake  when  the  minister 
looked  at  him.     A  wild  story,  never  authenti- 


^Q  A  ULD  LICHT  ID  YLLS. 

cated,  says  that  Hendry  once  offered  Mr. 
Dishart  a  snuff  from  his  mull.  In  the  streets 
Lang  Tammas  was  more  stern  and  dreaded 
by  evildoers,  but  Hendry  had  first  place  in 
the  kirk.  One  of  his  duties  was  to  precede 
the  minister  from  the  session-house  to  the 
pulpit  and  open  the  door  for  him.  Having 
shut  Mr.  Dishart  in  he  strolled  away  to  his 
seat  When  a  strange  minister  preached, 
Hendry  was,  if  possible,  still  more  at  his 
ease.  This  will  not  be  believed,  but  I  have 
seen  him  give  the  pulpit-door  on  these  occa- 
sions a  fling-to  with  his  feet.  However  ill  an 
ordinary  member  of  the  congregation  might 
become  in  the  kirk  he  sat  on  till  the  service 
ended,  but  Hendry  would  wander  to  the  door 
and  shut  it  if  he  noticed  that  the  wind  was 
playing  irreverent  tricks  with  the  pages  of 
Bibles,  and  proof  could  still  be  brought  for- 
ward that  he  would  stop  deliberately  in  the 
aisle  to  lift  up  a  piece  of  paper,  say,  that 
had  floated  there.  After  the  first  psalm  had 
been  sung  it  was  Hendry's  part  to  lift  up  the 
plate  and  carry  its  tinkling   contents  to  the 


THE  AULD  LIGHT  KIRK,  71 

session-house.  On  the  greatest  occasions  he 
remained  so  calm,  so  indifferent,  so  expres- 
sionless, that  he  might  have  been  present  the 
night  before  at  a  rehearsal 

When  there  was  preaching  at  night  the 
church  was  lit  by  tallow  candles,  which  also 
gave  out  all  the  artificial  heat  provided.  Two 
candles  stood  on  each  side  of  the  pulpit,  and 
others  were  scattered  over  the  church,  some  of 
them  fixed  into  holes  on  rough  brackets,  and 
some  merely  sticking  in  their  own  grease  on 
the  pews.  Hendry  superintended  the  lighting 
of  the  candles,  and  frequently  hobbled  through 
the  church  to  snuff  them.  Mr.  Dishart  was  a 
man  who  could  do  anything  except  snuff  a 
candle,  but  when  he  stopped  in  his  sermon  to 
do  that  he  as  often  as  not  knocked  the  candle 
over.  In  vain  he  sought  to  refix  it  in  its 
proper  place,  and  then  all  eyes  turned  to 
Hendry.  As  coolly  as  though  he  were  in  a 
public  hall  or  place  of  entertainment,  the 
kirk-ofificer  arose  and,  mounting  the  stair,  took 
the  candle  from  the  minister's  reluctant  hands 
and  put  it  right.    Then  he  returned  to  his  seat. 


72  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

not  apparently  puffed  up,  yet  perhaps  satisfied 
with  himself;  while  Mr.  Dishart,  glaring  after 
him  to  see  if  he  was  carrying  his  head  high, 
resumed  his  wordy  way. 

Never  was  there  a  man  more  uncomfortably 
loved  than  Mr.  Dishart.  Easie  Haggart,  his 
maid-servant,  reproved  him  at  the  breakfast- 
table.  Lang  Tammas  and  Sam'l  Mealmaker 
crouched  for  five  successive  Sabbath  nights  on 
his  manse  wall  to  catch  him  smoking  (and  got 
him).  Old  wives  grumbled  by  their  hearths 
when  he  did  not  look  in  to  despair  of  their 
salvation.  He  told  the  maidens  of  his  con- 
gregation not  to  make  an  idol  of  him.  His 
session  saw  him  (from  behind  a  haystack) 
in  conversation  with  a  strange  woman,  and 
asked  grimly  if  he  remembered  that  he  had 
a  wife.  Twenty  were  his  years  when  he  came 
to  Thrums,  and  on  the  very  first  Sabbath  he 
knocked  a  board  out  of  the  pulpit.  Before 
beginning  his  trial  sermon  he  handed  down 
the  big  Bible  to  the  precentor,  to  give  his  arms 
freer  swing.  The  congregation,  trembling 
with  exhilaration,  probed  his  meaning.     Not 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  y^ 

a  square  inch  of  paper,  they  saw,  could  be 
concealed  there.  Mr.  Dishart  had  scarcely 
any  hope  for  the  Auld  Lichts  ;  he  had  none 
for  any  other  denomination.  Davit  Lunan 
got  behind  his  handkerchief  to  think  for  a 
moment,  and  the  minister  was  on  him  like  a 
tiger.  The  call  was  unanimous.  Davit  pro- 
posed him. 

Every  few  years,  as  one  might  say,  the  Auld 
Licht  kirk  gave  way  and  buried  its  minister. 
The  congregation  turned  their  empty  pockets 
inside  out,  and  the  minister  departed  in  a 
farmer's  cart.  The  scene  was  not  an  amusing 
one  to  those  who  looked  on  at  it.  To  the 
Auld  Lichts  was  then  the  humiliation  of 
seeing  their  pulpit  "  supplied "  on  alternate 
Sabbaths  by  itinerant  probationers  or  stickit 
ministers.  When  they  were  not  starving 
themselves  to  support  a  pastor  the  Auld 
Lichts  were  saving  up  for  a  stipend.  They 
retired  with  compressed  lips  to  their  looms, 
and  weaved  and  weaved  till  they  weaved 
another  minister.  Without  the  grief  of  part- 
ing with  one  minister  there  could  not  have 


74  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

been  the  transport  of  choosing  another.  To 
have  had  a  pastor  always  might  have  made 
them  vainglorious. 

They  were  seldom  longer  than  twelve 
months  in  making  a  selection,  and  in  their 
haste  they  would  have  passed  over  Mr.  Dis- 
hart  and  mated  with  a  monster.  Many  years 
have  elapsed  since  Providence  flung  Mr. 
Watts  out  of  the  Auld  Licht  kirk.  Mr. 
Watts  was  a  probationer  who  was  tried  before 
Mr.  Dishart,  and,  though  not  so  young  as  might 
have  been  wished,  he  found  favour  in  many 
eyes.  "Sluggard  in  the  laft,  awake!"  he  cried 
to  Bell  Whamond,  who  had  forgotten  herself, 
and  it  was  felt  that  there  must  be  good 
stuff  in  him.  A  breeze  from  Heaven  exposed 
him  on  Communion  Sabbath. 

On  the  evening  of  this  solemn  day  the  door 
of  the  Auld  Licht  kirk  was  sometimes  locked, 
and  the  congregation  repaired,  Bible  in  hand, 
to  the  commonty.  They  had  a  right  to  this 
common  on  the  Communion  Sabbath,  but  only 
took  advantage  of  it  when  it  was  believed  that 
more  persons  intended  witnessing  the  evening 


THE  AULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  75 

service  than  the  kirk  would  hold.  On  this 
day  the  attendance  was  always  very  great 

It  was  the  Covenanters  come  back  to  life. 
To  the  summit  of  the  slope  a  wooden  box  was 
slowly  hurled  by  Hendry  Munn  and  others, 
and  round  this  the  congregation  quietly 
grouped  to  the  tinkle  of  the  cracked  Auld 
Licht  bell.  With  slow  majestic  tread  the 
session  advanced  up  the  steep  common  with 
the  little  minister  in  their  midst.  He  had  the 
people  in  his  hands  now,  and  the  more  he 
squeezed  them  the  better  they  were  pleased. 
The  travelling  pulpit  consisted  of  two  com- 
partments, the  one  for  the  minister  and  the 
other  for  Lang  Tammas,  but  no  Auld  Licht 
thought  that  it  looked  like  a  Punch  and  Judy 
puppet  show.  This  service  on  the  common 
was  known  as  the  "  tent  preaching,"  owing  to 
a  tent's  being  frequently  used  instead  of  the 
box. 

Mr.  Watts  was  conducting  the  service  on 
the  commonty.  It  was  a  fine,  still  summer 
evening,  and  loud  above  the  whispei  of  the 
burn  from  which  the  common  climbs,  and  the 


7^  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

laboured  "  pedis  "  of  the  listeners,  rose  the 
preacher's  voice.  The  Auld  Lichts  in  their 
rusty  blacks  (they  must  have  been  a  more 
artistic  sight  in  the  olden  days  of  blue  bonnets 
and  knee-breeches)  nodded  their  heads  in 
sharp  approval,  for  though  they  could  swoop 
down  on  a  heretic  like  an  eagle  on  carrion, 
they  scented  no  prey.  Even  Lang  Tammas, 
on  whose  nose  a  drop  of  water  gathered  when 
he  was  in  his  greatest  fettle,  thought  that  all 
was  fair  and  above-board.  Suddenly  a  rush 
of  wind  tore  up  the  common,  and  ran  straight 
at  the  pulpit.  It  formed  in  a  sieve,  and  passed 
over  the  heads  of  the  congregation,  who  felt  it 
as  a  fan,  and  looked  up  in  awe.  Lang 
Tammas,  feeling  himself  all  at  once  grow 
clammy,  distinctly  heard  the  leaves  of  the 
pulpit  Bible  shiver.  Mr.  Watts's  hands,  out- 
stretched to  prevent  a  catastrophe,  were  blowr) 
against  his  side,  and  then  some  twenty  sheets 
of  closely-written  paper  floated  into  the  air. 
There  was  a  horrible,  dead  silence.  The  burn 
was  roaring  now.  The  minister,  if  such  he  can 
be  called,  shrunk  back  in  his  box,  and,  as  if 


'It  was  Heudry's  part  to  carry  tlie  plate." 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  77 

they  had  seen  it  printed  in  letters  of  fire  on 
the  heavens,  the  congregation  realized  that  Mr. 
Watts,  whom  they  had  been  on  the  point  of 
calling,  read  his  sermon.  He  wrote  it  out  on 
pages  the  exact  size  of  those  in  the  Bible,  and 
did  not  scruple  to  fasten  these  into  the  Holy 
Book  itself  At  theatres  a  sullen  thunder  of 
angry  voices  behind  the  scene  represents  a 
crowd  in  a  rage,  and  such  a  low,  long-drawn 
howl  swept  the  common  when  Mr.  Watts  was 
found  out  To  follow  a  pastor  who  "read" 
seemed  to  the  Auld  Lichts  like  claiming 
heaven  on  false  pretences.  In  ten  minutes 
the  session  alone,  with  Lang  Tammas  and 
Hendry,  were  on  the  common.  They  were 
watched  by  many  from  afar  off,  and  (when 
one  comes  to  think  of  it  now)  looked  a  little 
curious  jumping,  like  trout  at  flies,  at  the 
damning  papers  still  fluttering  in  the  air.  The 
minister  was  never  seen  in  our  parts  again, 
but  he  is  still  remembered  as  "  Paper  Watts." 
Mr.  Dishart  in  the  pulpit  was  the  reward  of 
his  upbringing.  At  ten  he  had  entered  the 
university.      Before  he  was  in  his  teens  he 


78  AULD  LICH7  IDYLLS. 

was  practising  the  art  of  gesticulation  in  his 
father's  gallery  pew.  From  distant  congrega- 
tions people  came  to  marvel  at  him.  He  was 
never  more  than  comparatively  young.  So 
long  as  the  pulpit  trappings  of  the  kirk  at 
Thrums  lasted  he  could  be  seen,  once  he  was 
fairly  under  weigh  with  his  sermon,  but  dimly 
in  a  cloud  of  dust.  He  introduced  headaches. 
In  a  grand  transport  of  enthusiasm  he  once 
flung  his  arms  over  the  pulpit  and  caught 
Lang  Tammas  on  the  forehead.  Leaning 
forward,  with  his  chest  on  the  cushions,  he 
would  pommel  the  Evil  One  with  both  hands, 
and  then,  whirling  round  to  the  left,  shake  his 
fist  at  Bell  Whamond's  neckerchief  With  a 
sudden  jump  he  would  fix  Pete  Todd's 
youngest  boy  catching  flies  at  the  laft  window. 
Stiffening  unexpectedly,  he  would  leap  three 
times  in  the  air,  and  then  gather  himself  in  a 
corner  for  a  fearsome  spring.  When  he  wept 
he  seemed  to  be  laughing,  and  he  laughed  in 
a  paroxysm  of  tears.  He  tried  to  tear  the 
devil  out  of  the  pulpit  rails.  When  he  was 
not  a  teetotum  he  was  a  windmill.    His  pump 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  79 

positionwas  the  most  appalling.  Then  he  glared 
motionless  at  his  admiring  listeners,  as  if  he 
had  fallen  into  a  trance  with  his  arm  upraised. 
The  hurricane  broke  next  moment.  Nanny 
Sutie  bore  up  under  the  shadow  of  the  wind- 
mill— which  would  have  been  heavier  had 
Auld  Licht  ministers  worn  gowns — but  the 
pump  affected  her  to  tears.  She  was  stone- 
deaf. 

For  the  first  year  or  more  of  his  ministry  an 
Auld  Licht  minister  was  a  mouse  among 
cats.  Both  in  the  pulpit  and  out  of  it  they 
watched  for  unsound  doctrine,  and  when  he 
strayed  they  took  him  by  the  neck.  Mr.  Dis- 
hart,  however,  had  been  brought  up  in  the  true 
way,  and  seldom  gave  his  people  a  chance. 
In  time,  it  may  be  said,  they  grew  despondent, 
and  settled  in  their  uncomfortable  pews  with 
jtii  suspicion  of  lurking  heresy  allayed.  It  was 
only  on  such  Sabbaths  as  Mr.  Dishart  changed 
pulpits  with  another  minister  that  they  cocked 
their  ears  and  leant  forward  eagerly  to  snap 
the  preacher  up. 

Mr.  Dishart  had  his  trials.    There  was  the 


So  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

split  in  the  kirk,  too,  that  comes  once  at  least 
to  every  Auld  Licht  minister.  He  was  long 
in  marrying.  The  congregation  were  thinking 
of  approaching  him,  through  the  medium  of 
his  servant,  Easie  Haggart,  on  the  subject  of 
matrimony ;  for  a  bachelor  coming  on  for 
twenty-two,  with  an  income  of  eighty  pounds 
per  annum,  seemed  an  anomaly,  when  one  day 
he  took  the  canal  for  Edinburgh  and  returned 
with  his  bride.  His  people  nodded  their  heads, 
but  said  nothing  to  the  minister.  If  he  did 
not  choose  to  take  them  into  his  confidence,  it 
was  no  affair  of  theirs.  That  there  was  some- 
thing queer  about  the  marriage,  however, 
seemed  certain.  Sandy  Whamond,  who  was  a 
soured  man  after  losing  his  eldership,  said  that 
he  believed  she  had  been  an  "  Englishy  " — in 
other  words,  had  belonged  to  the  English 
Church  ;  but  it  is  not  probable  that  Mr.  Dis- 
hart  would  have  gone  the  length  of  that.  The 
secret  is  buried  in  his  grave. 

Easie  Haggart  jagged  the  minister  sorely. 
She  grew  loquacious  with  years,  and  when  he 
had  company  would  stand  at  the  door  joining 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHT  KIRK,  8i 

in  the  conversation.  If  the  company  was 
another  minister,  she  would  take  a  chair  and 
discuss  Mr.  Dishart's  infirmities  with  him. 
The  Auld  Lichts  loved  their  minister,  but 
they  saw  even  more  clearly  than  himself  the 
necessity  for  his  humiliation.  His  wife  made 
all  her  children's  clothes,  but  Sanders  Gow 
complained  that  she  looked  too  like  their 
sister.  In  one  week  three  of  the  children 
died,  and  on  the  Sabbath  following  it  rained. 
Mr.  Dishart  preached,  twice  breaking  down 
altogether  and  gaping  strangely  round  the 
kirk  (there  was  no  dust  flying  that  day), 
and  spoke  of  the  rain  as  angels'  tears  for  three 
little  girls.  The  Auld  Lichts  let  it  pass,  but,  as 
Lang  Tammas  said  in  private  (for,  of  course, 
the  thing  was  much  discussed  at  the  looms}, 
if  you  materialize  angels  in  that  way,  where 
are  you  going  to  stop } 

It  was  on  the  Fast  Days  that  the  Auld  Licht 
kirk  showed  what  it  was  capable  of,  and,  so 
to  speak,  left  all  the  other  churches  in  Thrums 
far  behind.  The  Fast  came  round  once 
every  summer,  beginning  on  a  Thursday,  when 
7 


82  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

all  the  looms  were  hushed,  and  two  services 
were  held  in  the  kirk  of  about  three  hours' 
length  each.  A  minister  from  another  town 
assisted  at  these  times,  and  when  the  service 
ended  the  members  filed  in  at  one  door  and 
out  at  another,  passing  on  their  way  Mr.  Dis- 
hart  and  his  elders,  who  dispensed  "  tokens  " 
at  the  foot  of  the  pulpit.  Without  a  token, 
which  was  a  metal  lozenge,  no  one  could  take 
the  sacrament  on  the  coming  Sabbath,  and 
many  a  member  has  Mr.  Dishart  made  miser- 
able by  refusing  him  his  token  for  gathering 
wild-flowers,  say,  on  a  Lord's  Day  (as  testified 
to  by  another  member).  Women  were  lost 
who  cooked  dinners  on  the  Sabbath,  or  took 
to  coloured  ribbons,  or  absented  themselves 
from  church  without  sufficient  cause.  On  the 
Fast  Day  fists  were  shaken  at  Mr.  Dishart  as 
he  walked  sternly  homewards,  but  he  was 
undismayed.  Next  day  there  were  no  ser- 
vices in  the  kirk,  for  Auld  Lichts  could 
not  afford  many  holidays,  but  they  weaved 
solemnly,  with  Saturday  and  the  Sabbath  and 
Monday  to  think  of.     On    Saturday   service 


THE  AULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  83 

began  at  two  and  lasted  until  nearly  seven. 
Two  sermons  were  preached,  but  there  was 
no  interval.  The  sacrament  was  dispensed 
on  the  Sabbath.  Nowadays  the  "  tables  "  in 
the  Auld  Licht  kirk  are  soon  "served,"  for 
the  attendance  has  decayed,  and  most  of  the 
pews  in  the  body  of  the  church  are  made  use 
of.  In  the  days  of  which  I  speak,  however, 
the  front  pews  alone  were  hung  with  white, 
and  it  was  in  them  only  that  the  sacrament 
was  administered.  As  many  members  as  could 
get  into  them  delivered  up  their  tokens  and 
took  the  first  table.  Then  they  made  room 
for  others,  who  sat  in  their  pews  awaiting 
their  turn.  What  with  tables,  the  preaching, 
and  unusually  long  prayers,  the  service 
lasted  from  eleven  to  six.  At  half-past  six 
a  two  hours'  service  began,  either  in  the  kirk 
or  on  the  common,  from  which  no  one  who 
thought  much  about  his  immortal  soul  would 
have  dared  (or  cared)  to  absent  himself.  A 
four  hours'  service  on  the  Monday,  which, 
like  that  of  the  Saturday,  consisted  of  two 
services  in  one,  but  began  at  eleven  instead 
of  two,  completed  the  programme. 


84  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

On  those  days,  if  you  were  a  poor  creatuic 
and  wanted  to  acknowledge  it,  you  could 
leave  the  church  for  a  few  minutes  and  return 
to  it,  but  the  creditable  thing  was  to  sit  on. 
Even  among  the  children  there  was  a  keen 
competition,  fostered  by  their  parents,  to  sit 
each  other  out,  and  be  in  at  the  death. 

The  other  Thrums  kirks  held  the  sacra- 
ment at  the  same  time,  but  not  with  the  same 
vehemence.  As  far  north  from  the  school- 
house  as  Thrums  is  south  of  it,  nestles  the 
little  village  of  Quharity,  and  there  the  Fast 
Day  was  not  a  day  of  fasting.  In  most  cases 
the  people  had  to  go  many  miles  to  church. 
They  drove  or  rode  (two  on  a  horse),  or 
walked  in  from  other  glens.  Without  "  the 
tents,"  therefore,  the  congregation,  with  a 
long  day  before  them,  would  have  been  badly 
off.  Sometimes  one  tent  sufficed  ;  at  other 
times  rival  publicans  were  on  the  ground. 
The  tents  were  those  in  use  at  the  feeing  and 
other  markets,  and  you  could  get  anything 
inside  them,  from  broth  made  in  a  "  boiler " 
to  the  firiest    whisk}'.      They   were    planted 


THE  AULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  8$ 

just  outside  the  kirk-gate — long,  low  tents  of 
dirty  white  canvas — so  that  when  passing  into 
the  church  or  out  of  it  you  inhaled  their 
odours.  The  congregation  emerged  austerely 
from  the  church,  shaking  their  heads  solemnly 
over  the  minister's  remarks,  and  their  feet 
carried  them  into  the  tent.  There  was  no 
mirth,  no  unseemly  revelry,  but  there  was  a 
great  deal  of  hard  drinking.  Eventually  the 
tents  were  done  away  with,  but  not  until  the 
services  on  the  Fast  Days  were  shortened. 
The  Auld  Licht  ministers  were  the  only  ones 
who  preached  against  the  tents  with  any 
heart,  and  since  the  old  dominie,  my  prede- 
cessor at  the  schoolhouse,  died,  there  has 
not  been  an  Auld  Licht  permanently  resident 
in  the  glen  of  Quharity. 

Perhaps  nothing  took  it  out  of  the  Auld 
Licht  males  so  much  as  a  christening.  Then 
alone  they  showed  symptoms  of  nervousness, 
more  especially  after  the  remarkable  baptism 
of  Eppie  Whamond.  I  could  tell  of  several 
scandals  in  connection  with  the  kirk.  There 
was,  for  instance,  the  time  when   Easie  Hag- 


86  A  VLB  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

gart  saved  the  minister.  In  a  fit  of  temporary 
mental  derangement  the  misguided  man  had 
one  Sabbath  day,  despite  the  entreaties  of 
his  affrighted  spouse,  called  at  the  post-office, 
and  was  on  the  point  of  reading  the  letter 
there  received,  when  Easie,  who  had  slipped 
on  her  bonnet  and  followed  him,  snatched  the 
secular  thing  from  his  hands.  There  was  the 
story  that  ran  like  fire  through  Thrums  and 
crushed  an  innocent  man  to  the  effect  that 
Pete  Todd  had  been  in  an  Edinburgh  theatre 
coutenancing  the  play-actors.  Something 
could  be  made,  too,  of  the  retribution  that 
came  to  Chairlie  Ramsay,  who  woke  in  his  pew 
to  discover  that  its  other  occupant,  his  little 
son  Jamie,  was  standing  on  the  seat  divesting 
himself  of  his  clothes  in  presence  of  a  horrified 
congregation.  Jamie  had  begun  stealthily,  and 
had  very  little  on  when  Chairlie  seized  him. 
But  having  my  choice  of  scandals  I  prefer  the 
christening  one — the  unique  case  of  Eppie 
Whamond,  who  was  born  late  on  Saturday 
night  and  baptized  in  the  kirk  on  the  follow- 
ing forenooa 


THE  A  ULD  LICm  KIRK.  87 

To  the  casual  observer  the  Auld  Licht 
always  looked  as  if  he  were  returning  from 
burying  a  near  relative.  Yet  when  I  met  him 
hobbling  down  the  street,  preternaturally 
grave  and  occupied,  experience  taught  me 
that  he  was  preparing  for  a  christening.  How 
the  minister  would  have  borne  himself  in  the 
event  of  a  member  of  his  congregation's  want- 
ing the  baptism  to  take  place  at  home  it  is 
not  easy  to  say;  but  I  shudder  to  think  of  the 
public  prayers  for  the  parents  that  would  cer- 
tainly have  followed.  The  child  was  carried 
to  the  kirk  through  rain,  or  snow,  or  sleet,  or 
wind,  the  father  took  his  seat  alone  in  the 
front  pew,  under  the  minister's  eye,  and  the 
service  was  prolonged  far  on  into  the  after- 
noon. But  though  the  references  in  the  sermon 
to  that  unhappy  object  of  interest  in  the  front 
pew  were  many  and  pointed,  his  time  had  not 
really  come  until  the  minister  signed  to  him 
to  advance  as  far  as  the  second  step  of  the 
pulpit  stairs.  T'ae  nervous  father  clenched 
the  railing  in  a  daze,  and  cowered  before  the 
ministerial    heckling.       From    warning    the 


88  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

minister  passed  to  exhortation,  from  exhorta- 
tion to  admonition,  from  admonition  to 
searching  questioning,  from  questioning  to 
prayer  and  wailing.  When  the  father  glanced 
up,  there  was  the  radiant  boy  in  the  pulpit 
looking  as  if  he  would  like  to  jump  down  his 
throat.  If  he  hung  his  head  the  minister  would 
ask,  with  a  groan,  whether  he  was  unpre- 
pared ;  and  the  whole  congregation  would 
sigh  out  the  response  that  Mr.  Dishart  had  hit 
it  When  he  replied  audibly  to  the  minister's 
uncomfortable  questions,  a  pained  look  at  his 
flippancy  travelled  from  the  pulpit  all  round 
the  pews  ;  and  when  he  only  bowed  his  head 
in  answer,  the  minister  paused  sternly,  and 
the  congregation  wondered  what  the  man 
meant.  Little  wonder  that  Davie  Ilaggart 
took  to  drinking  when  his  turn  came  for  occu- 
pying that  front  pew. 

If  wee  Eppie  Whamond's  birth  had  been 
deferred  until  the  beginning  of  the  week,  or 
humility  had  shown  more  prominently  among 
her  mother's  virtues,  the  kirk  would  have 
been   saved   a  painful    scandal,   and    Sandy 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  89 

Whamond  might  have  retained  his  eldership. 
Yet  it  was  a  foolish  but  wifely  pride  in  her 
husband's  official  position  that  turned  Bell 
Dundas's  head — a  wild  ambition  to  beat  all 
baptismal  record. 

Among  the  wives  she  was  esteemed  a  poor 
body  whose  infant  did  not  see  the  inside  of 
the  kirk  within  a  fortnight  of  its  birth.  Forty 
years  ago  it  was  an  accepted  superstition  in 
Thrums  that  the  ghosts  of  children  who  had 
died  before  they  were  baptized  went  wailing 
and  wringing  their  hands  round  the  kirkyard 
at  nights,  and  that  they  would  continue  to  do 
this  until  the  crack  of  doom.  When  the  Auld 
Licht  children  grew  up,  too,  they  crowed  over 
those  of  their  fellows  whose  christening  had 
been  deferred  until  a  comparatively  late  date, 
and  the  mothers  who  had  needlessly  missed  a 
Sabbath  for  long  afterwards  hung  their  heads. 
That  was  a  good  and  creditable  birth  which 
took  place  early  in  the  week,  thus  allowing 
time  for  suitable  christening  preparations  ; 
while  to  be  born  on  a  Friday  or  a  Saturday 
was  to  humiliate  your  parents,  besides  being 


90  A  ULD  LIGHT  JD  YLLS. 

an  extremely  ominous  beginning  for  your;;elf. 
Without  seeking  to  vindicate  Bell  Dundas's 
behaviour,  I  may  note,  as  an  act  of  ordinary 
fairness,  that  being  the  leading  elder's  wife, 
she  was  sorely  tempted.  Eppie  made  her 
appearance  at  9.45  on  a  Saturday  night. 

In  the  hurry  and  skurry  that  ensued,  Sandy 
escaped  sadly  to  the  square.  His  infant 
would  be  baptized  eight  days  old,  one  of  the 
longest-deferred  christenings  of  the  year. 
Sandy  was  shivering  under  the  clock  when  I 
met  him  accidentally,  and  took  him  home. 
But  by  that  time  the  harm  had  been  done. 
Several  of  the  congregation  had  been  roused 
from  their  beds  to  hear  his  lamentations,  of 
whom  the  men  sympathized  with  him,  while 
the  wives  triumphed  austerely  over  Bell 
Dundas.  As  I  wrung  poor  Sandy's  hand,  I 
hardly  noticed  that  a  bright  light  showed  dis- 
tinctly between  the  shutters  of  his  kitchen- 
window  ;  but  the  elder  himself  turned  pale 
and  breathed  quickly.  It  was  then  fourteen 
minutes  past  twelve. 

My   heart   sank    within    me    on   the   fol- 


THE  A  ULD  UCHT  KIRK.  91 

lowing  forenoon,  when  Sandy  Whamond 
walked,  with  a  queer  twitching  face,  into  the 
front  pew  under  a  glare  of  eyes  from  the  body 
of  the  kirk  and  the  laft.  An  amazed  buzz 
went  round  the  church,  followed  by  a  pursing 
up  of  lips  and  hurried  whisperings.  Evidently 
Sandy  had  been  driven  to  it  against  his  own 
judgment.  The  scene  is  still  vivid  before  me  : 
the  minister  suspecting  no  guile,  and  omitting 
the  admonitory  stage  out  of  compliment  to 
the  elder's  standing ;  Sandy's  ghastly  face ; 
the  proud  godmother  (aged  twelve)  with  the 
squalling  baby  in  her  arms ;  the  horror  of  the 
congregation  to  a  man  and  woman.  A  slate 
fell  from  Sandy's  house  even  as  he  held  up 
the  babe  to  the  minister  to  receive  a  "droukin"' 
of  water,  and  Eppie  cried  so  vigorously  that 
her  shamed  godmother  had  to  rush  with  her 
to  the  vestry.  Now  things  are  not  as  they 
should  be  when  an  Auld  Licht  infant  does 
not  quietly  sit  out  her  first  service. 

Bell  tried  for  a  time  to  carry  her  head  high  ; 
but  Sandy  ceased  to  whistle  at  his  loom,  and 
the   scandal   was   a    rollinsf   stone  that  soon 


92  A  ULD  LICHT  ID  YLLS. 

passed  over  him.  Briefly  it  amounted  to 
this  :  that  a  bairn  born  within  two  hours  of 
midnight  on  Saturday  could  not  have  been 
ready  for  christening  at  the  kirk  next  day 
without  the  breaking  of  the  Sabbath.  Had 
the  secret  of  the  nocturnal  light  been  mine 
alone  all  might  have  been  well  ;  but  Betsy 
Munn's  evidence  was  irrefutable.  Great  had 
been  Bell's  cunning,  but  Betsy  had  outwitted 
her.  Passing  the  house  on  the  eventful  night, 
Betsy  had  observed  Marget  Dundas,  Bell's 
sister,  open  the  door  and  creep  cautiously  to 
the  window,  the  chinks  in  the  outside  shutters 
of  which  she  cunningly  closed  up  with  "  tow." 
As  in  a  flash  the  disgusted  Betsy  saw  what 
Bell  was  up  to,  and,  removing  the  tow,  planted 
herself  behind  the  dilapidated  dyke  opposite, 
and  awaited  events.  Questioned  at  a  special 
meeting  of  the  offlce-bearers  in  the  vestry,  she 
admitted  that  the  lamp  was  extinguished  soon 
after  twelve  o'clock,  though  the  fire  burned 
brightly  all  night.  There  had  been  un- 
necessary feasting  during  the  night,  and  six 
eggs  were   consumed    before   breakfast-time 


THE  AULD  LIGHT  KIRK.  93 

Asked  how  she  knew  this,  she  admitted  having 
counted  the  egg-shells  that  Marget  had  thrown 
out  of  doors  in  the  morning.  This,  with 
the  testimony  of  the  persons  from  whom 
Sandy  had  sought  condolence  on  the  Satur- 
day night,  was  the  case  for  the  prosecutioa 
For  the  defence,  Bell  maintained  that  all  pre- 
parations stopped  when  the  clock  struck 
twelve,  and  even  hinted  that  the  bairn  had 
been  born  on  Saturday  afternoon.  But  Sandy 
knew  that  he  and  his  had  got  a  fall.  In  the 
forenoon  of  the  following  Sabbath  the  minister 
preached  from  the  text,  "  Be  sure  your  sin  will 
find  you  out ; "  and  in  the  afternoon  from 
"  Pride  goeth  before  a  fall."  He  was  grand. 
In  the  evening  Sandy  tendered  his  resigna- 
tion of  office,  which  was  at  once  accepted. 
Wobs  were  behindhand  for  a  week  owing  to 
the  length  of  the  prayers  offered  up  for  Bell ; 
and  Lang  Tammas  ruled  in  Sandy's  stead. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LADS     AND     LASSES. 

With  the  severe  Auld  Lichts  the  Sabbath 
began  at  six  o'clock  on  Saturday  evening.  By 
that  time  the  gleaming  shuttle  was  at  rest, 
Davie  Haggart  had  strolled  into  the  village 
from  his  pile  of  stones  on  the  Whunny  road  ; 
Hendry  Robb,  the  "dummy,"  had  sold  his 
last  barrovvful  of  "  rozetty  (resiny)  roots"  for 
firewood  ;  and  the  people,  having  tranquilly 
supped  and  soused  their  faces  in  their  water- 
pails,  slowly  donned  their  Sunday  clothes. 
This  ceremony  was  common  to  all ;  but  here 
divergence  set  in.  The  grey  Auld  Licht,  to 
whom  love  was  not  even  a  name,  sat  in  his 
high-backed  arm-chair  by  the  hearth,  Bible  or 


LADS  AND  LASSES.  95 

"  Pilgrim's  Progress "  in  hand,  occasionally 
lapsing  into  slumber.  But — though,  when 
they  got  the  chance,  they  went  willingly 
three  times  to  the  kirk — there  were  young 
men  in  the  community  so  flighty  that,  instead 
of  dozing  at  home  on  Saturday  night,  they 
dandered  casually  into  the  square,  and,  form- 
ing into  knots  at  the  corners,  talked  so- 
lemnly and  mysteriously  of  women. 

Not  even  on  the  night  preceding  his  wed- 
ding was  an  Auld  Licht  ever  known  to  stay 
out  after  ten  o'clock.  So  weekly  conclaves 
at  street-corners  came  to  an  end  at  a  com- 
paratively early  hour,  one  Ccelebs  after 
another  shuffling  silently  from  the  square 
until  it  echoed,  deserted,  to  the  town  house 
clock.  The  last  of  the  gallants,  gradually 
discovering  that  he  was  alone,  would  look 
around  him  musingly,  and,  taking  in  the  situa- 
tion, slowly  wend  his  way  home.  On  no  other 
night  of  the  week  was  frivolous  talk  about 
the  softer  sex  indulged  in,  the  Auld  Lichts 
being  creatures  of  habit  who  never  thought  of 
smiling  on   a   Monday.     Long  before  they 


96  AULD  LIC^iT  IDYLLS. 

reached  their  teens  they  were  earning  their 
keep  as  herds  in  the  surrounding  glens  or 
filling  "  pirns "  for  their  parents  ;  but  they 
were  generally  on  the  brink  of  twenty  before 
they  thought  seriously  of  matrimony.  Up  to 
that  time  they  only  trifled  with  the  other  sex's 
affections  at  a  distance — filling  a  maid's  water- 
pails,  perhaps,  when  no  one  was  looking,  or 
carrying  her  wob ;  at  the  recollection  of 
which  they  would  slap  their  knees  almost 
jovially  on  Saturday  night.  A  wife  was  ex- 
pected to  assist  at  the  loom  as  well  as  to  be 
cunning  in  the  making  of  marmalade  and  the 
firing  of  bannocks,  and  there  was  consequently 
some  heartburning  among  the  lads  for  maids 
of  skill  and  muscle.  The  Auld  Licht,  how- 
ever, who  meant  marriage  seldom  loitered  in 
the  streets.  By  and  by  there  came  a  time 
when  the  clock  looked  down  through  its 
cracked  glass  upon  the  hemmed  in  square 
and  saw  him  not.  His  companions,  gazing  at 
each  other's  boots,  felt  that  something  was 
going  on,  but  made  no  remark. 

A  month  ago,  passing  through  the  shabby 


LADS  AND  LASSES.  97 

familiar  square,  I  brushed  against  a  withered 
old  man  tottering  down  the  street  under  a 
load  of  yarn.  It  was  piled  on  a  wheelbarrow 
which  his  feeble  hands  could  not  have  raised 
but  for  the  rope  of  yarn  that  supported  it  from 
his  shoulders  ;  and  though  Auld  Licht  was 
written  on  his  patient  eyes,  I  did  not  imme- 
diately recognize  Jamie  Whamond.  Years 
ago  Jamie  was  a  sturdy  weaver  and  fervent 
lover  whom  I  had  the  right  to  call  my  friend. 
Turn  back  the  century  a  few  decades,  and  we 
are  together  oh  a  moonlight  night,  taking  a 
short  cut  through  the  fields  from  the  farm 
of  Craigiebuckle.  Buxom  wereCraigiebuckle's 
"dochters/'  and  Jamie  was  Janet's  accepted 
suitor.  It  was  a  muddy  road  through  damp 
grass,  and  we  picked  our  way  silently  over 
its  ruts  and  pools.  "I'm  thinkin',"  Jamie 
said  at  last,  a  little  wistfully,  "  that  1  micht 
hae  been  as  weel  wi'  Chirsty."  Chirsty  was 
Janet's  sister,  and  Jamie  had  first  thought 
of  her.  Craigiebuckle,  however,  strongly 
adw'sed  him  to  take  Janet  instead,  and  he 
consented.  Alack  1  heavy  wobs  have  taken 
8 


98  AULD  LICHl  IDYLLS. 

all  the  grace  from  Janet's  shoulders  this 
many  a  year,  though  she  and  Jamie  go 
bravely  down  the  hill  together.  Unless  they 
pass  the  allotted  span  of  life,  the  "  poors- 
house  "  will  never  know  them.  As  for  bonny 
Chirsty,  she  proved  a  flighty  thing,  and 
married  a  deacon  in  the  Established  Church. 
The  Auld  Lichts  groaned  over  her  fall, 
Craigiebuckle  hung  his  head,  and  the  minister 
told  her  sternly  to  go  her  way.  But  a  few 
weeks  afterwards  Lang  Tammas,  the  chief 
elder,  was  observed  talking  with  her  for  an 
hour  in  Cowrie's  close  ;  and  the  very  next 
Sabbath  Chirsty  pushed  her  husband  in 
triumph  into  her  father's  pew.  The  minister, 
though  completely  taken  by  surprise,  at  once 
referred  to  the  stranger,  in  a  prayer  of 
great  length,  as  a  brand  that  might  yet  be 
plucked  from  the  burning.  Changing  his  text, 
he  preached  at  him  ;  Lang  Tammas,  the  pre- 
centor, and  the  whole  congregation  (Chirsty 
included),  sang  at  him  ;  and  before  he  exactly 
realized  his  position  he  had  become  an  Auld 
Licht  for  life.  Chirsty's  triumph  was  complete 


LADS  AND  LASSES.  99 

when,  next  week,  in  broad  daylight,  too,  the 
minister's  wife  called,  and  (in  the  presence  of 
Betsy  Munn,  who  vouches  for  the  truth  of  the 
story)  graciously  asked  her  to  come  up  to  the 
manse  on  Thursday,  at  4  p.m.,  and  drink  a 
dish  of  tea.  Chirsty,  who  knew  her  position, 
of  course  begged  modestly  to  be  excused  ; 
but  a  coolness  arose  over  the  invitation 
between  her  and  Janet — who  felt  slighted — 
that  was  only  made  up  at  the  laying-out  of 
Chirsty's  father-in-law,  to  which  Janet  was 
pleasantly  invited. 

When  they  had  red  up  the  house,  the 
Auld  Licht  lassies  sat  in  the  gloaming  at 
their  doors  on  three-legged  stools,  patiently 
knitting  stockings.  To  them  came  stiff-limbed 
youths  who,  with  a  "  Blawy  nicht,  Jeanie  " 
(to  which  the  inevitable  answer  was,  "  It  is 
so,  Cha-rles  "),  rested  their  shoulders  on  the 
doorpost,  and  silently  followed  with  their 
eyes  the  flashing  needles.  Thus  the  court- 
ship began  —  often  to  ripen  promptly  into 
marriage,  at  other  times  to  go  no  further. 
The    smooth -haired     maids,    neat    in     their 


loo  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

simple  wrappers,  knew  they  were  on  their 
trial  and  that  it  behoved  them  to  be  wary. 
They  had  not  compassed  twenty  winters 
without  knowing  that  Marget  Todd  lost 
Davie  Haggart  because  she  "fittit"  a  black 
stocking  with  brown  worsted,  and  that 
Finny's  grieve  turned  from  Bell  Whamond 
on  account  of  the  frivolous  flowers  in  her 
bonnet :  and  yet  Bell's  prospects,  as  I  happen 
to  know,  at  one  time  looked  bright  and 
promising.  Sitting  over  her  father's  peat- 
fire  one  night  gossiping  with  him  about 
fishing-flies  and  tackle,  I  noticed  the  grieve, 
who  had  dropped  in  by  appointment  with 
some  ducks'  eggs  on  which  Bell's  clockin 
hen  was  to  sit,  performing  some  slesght-of- 
hand  trick  with  his  coat-sleeve.  Craftily  he 
jerked  and  twisted  it,  till  his  own  photograph 
(a  black  smudge  on  white)  gradually  appeared 
to  view.  This  he  gravely  slipped  into  the 
hands  of  the  maid  of  his  choice,  and  then 
took  his  departure,  apparently  much  relieved. 
Had  not  Bell's  light-headedness  driven  him 
away,  the  grieve  would  have  soon  followed 


Passing  througli  the  shabby  square  I  met  an  old  man. 


LADS  AND  LASSES.  loi 

ap  his  gift  with  an  offer  of  his  hand.  Some 
night  Bell  would  have  "  seen  him  to  the 
door,"  and  they  would  have  stared  sheepishly 
at  each  other  before  saying  good-night 
The  parting  salutation  given,  the  grieve 
would  still  have  stood  his  ground,  and  Bell 
would  have  waited  with  him.  At  last,  "Will 
ye  hae's,  Bell?"  would  have  dropped  from 
his  half-reluctant  lips  ;  and  Bell  would  have 
mumbled,  "Ay,"  with  her  thumb  in  her 
mouth.  "Guid  nicht  to  ye,  Bell,"  would  be 
the  next  remark — "  Guid  nicht  to  ye, 
Jeamcs,"  the  answer  ;  the  humble  door  would 
close  softly,  and  Bell  and  her  lad  would  have 
been  engaged.  But,  as  it  was,  their  attachment 
never  got  beyond  the  silhouette  stage,  from 
which,  in  the  ethics  of  the  Auld  Lichts,  a 
man  can  draw  back  in  certain  circumstances, 
without  loss  of  honour  The  only  really 
tender  thing  I  ever  heard  an  Auld  Licht 
lover  say  to  his  sweetheart  was  when 
Cowrie's  brother  looked  softly  into  Easie 
Tamson's  eyes  and  whispered,  "  Do  you  swite 
(sweat)  ? "      Even  then  the   effect   was   pro- 


1 02  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

duced  more  by  the  loving  cast  in  Gowries' 
eye  than  by  the  tenderness  of  the  words 
themselves. 

The  courtships  were  sometimes  of  long 
duration,  but  as  soon  as  the  young  man 
realized  that  he  was  courting  he  proposed. 
Cases  were  not  wanting  in  which  he  realized 
this  for  himself,  but  as  a  rule  he  had  to  be 
told  of  it. 

There  were  a  few  instances  of  weddings 
among  the  Auld  Lichts  that  did  not  take 
place  on  Friday.  Betsy  Munn's  brother 
thought  to  assert  his  two  coal-carts,  about 
which  he  was  sinfully  puffed  up,  by  getting 
married  early  in  the  week  ;  but  he  was  a 
pragmatical  feckless  body,  Jamie.  The 
foreigner  from  York  that  Pinny's  grieve  after 
disappointing  Jinny  Whamond  took,  sought 
to  sow  the  seeds  of  strife  by  urging  that 
Fr/.^^v  was  an  unlucky  day  ;  and  I  remember 
how  tne  minister,  who  was  always  great 
in  a  crisis,  nipped  the  bickering  in  the  bud 
by  adducing  the  conclusive  fact  that  he  had 
been  married  on  the  sixth  day  of  the  week 


LADS  AND  LASSES.  103 

himself.  It  was  a  judicious  policy  on  Mr. 
Dishart's  part  to  take  vigorous  action  at 
once  and  insist  on  the  solemnization  of  the 
marriage  on  a  Friday  or  not  at  all,  for  he 
best  kept  superstition  out  of  the  congrega- 
tion by  branding  it  as  heresy.  Perhaps  the 
Auld  Lichts  were  only  ignorant  of  the 
grieve's  lass's  theory  because  they  had  not 
thought  of  it.  Friday's  claims,  too,  were 
incontrovertible ;  for  the  Saturday's  being 
a  slack  day  gave  the  couple  an  opportunity 
to  put  their  but  and  ben  in  order,  and  on 
Sabbath  they  had  a  gay  day  of  it,  three 
times  at  the  kirk.  The  honeymoon  over, 
the  racket  of  the  loom  began  again  on  the 
Monday. 

The  natural  politeness  of  the  Allardice 
family  gave  me  my  invitation  to  Tibbie's 
wedding.  I  was  taking  tea  and  cheese  early 
one  wintry  afternoon  with  the  smith  and 
his  wife,  when  little  Joey  Todd  in  his 
Sabbath  clothes  peered  in  at  the  passage, 
and  then  knocked  primly  at  the  door.  Andra 
forgot  himself,  and  called  out  to  him  to  come 


I04  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

in  by  ;  but  Jess  frowned  him  into  silence,  and, 
hastily  donning  her  black  mutch,  received 
Willie  on  the  threshold.  Both  halves  of  the 
cioor  were  open,  and  the  visitor  had  looked 
us  over  carefully  before  knocking ;  but  he 
had  come  with  the  compliments  of  Tibbie's 
mother,  requesting  the  pleasure  of  Jess  and 
her  man  that  evening  to  the  lassie's  marriage 
with  Sam'l  Todd,  and  the  knocking  at  the 
door  was  part  of  the  ceremony.  Five 
minutes  afterwards  Joey  returned  to  beg  a 
moment  of  me  in  the  passage  ;  when  I,  too, 
got  my  invitation.  The  lad  had  just  re- 
ceived, with  an  expression  of  polite  surprise, 
though  he  knew  he  could  claim  it  as  his 
right,  a  slice  of  crumbling  shortbread,  and 
taken  his  staid  departure,  when  Jess  cleared 
the  tea  -  things  off  the  table,  remarking 
simply  that  it  was  a  mercy  we  had  not  got 
beyond  the  first  cup.  We  then  retired  to 
dress. 

About  SIX  o'clock,  the  time  announced 
for  the  ceremony,  I  elbowed  my  way  through 
the  expectant  throng  of  men,    women,  and 


LADS  AND  LASSES.  105 

children  that  already  besieged  the  smith's 
door.  Shrill  demands  of  "Toss,  toss  !  "  rent 
the  air  every  time  Jess's  head  showed  on  the 
window-blind,  and  Andra  hoped,  as  I  pushed 
open  the  door,  '*  that  I  hadna  forgotten  my 
bawbees."  Weddings  were  celebrated  among 
the  Auld  Lichts  by  showers  of  ha'pence,  and 
the  guests  on  their  way  to  the  bride's  house 
had  to  scatter  to  the  hungry  rabble  like 
housewives  feeding  poultry.  Willie  Todd, 
the  best  man,  who  had  never  come  out  so 
strong  in  his  life  before,  slipped  through  the 
back  window,  while  the  crowd,  led  on  by 
Kitty  McQueen,  seethed  in  front,  and  making 
a  bolt  for  it  to  the  "'Sosh,"  was  back  in  a 
moment  with  a  handful  of  small  change. 
"  Dinna  toss  ower  lavishly  at  first,"  the  smith 
whispered  me  nervously,  as  we  followed  Jess 
and  Willie  into  the  darkening  wynd. 

The  guests  were  packed  hot  and  solemn 
in  Johnny  Allardice's  "room:"  the  men 
anxious  to  surrender  their  seats  to  the  ladies 
who  happened  to  be  standing,  but  too  bash- 
ful  to  propose   it ;    the    ham   and   the  fish 


I o6  AULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

frizzling  noisily  side  by  side  but  the  house, 
and  hissing  out  every  now  and  then  to  let 
all  whom  it  might  concern  know  that  Janet 
Craik  was  adding  more  water  to  the  gravy. 
A  better  woman  never  lived  ;  but,  oh,  the 
hypocrisy  of  the  face  that  beamed  greeting 
to  the  guests  as  if  it  had  nothing  to  do  but 
politely  show  them  in,  and  gasped  next  mo- 
ment with  upraised  arms,  over  what  was  nearly 
a  fall  in  crockery.  When  Janet  sped  to  the 
door  her  "  spleet  new "  merino  dress  fell, 
to  the  pulling  of  a  string,  over  her  home- 
made petticoat,  like  the  drop-scene  in  a 
theatre,  and  rose  as  promptly  when  she 
returned  to  slice  the  bacon.  The  murmur 
of  admiration  that  filled  the  room  when  she 
entered  with  the  minister  was  an  involuntary 
tribute  to  the  spotlessness  of  her  wrapper, 
and  a  great  triumph  for  Janet.  If  there  is 
an  impression  that  the  dress  of  the  Auld 
Lichts  was  on  all  occasions  as  sombre  as 
their  faces,  let  it  be  known  that  the  bride 
was  but  one  of  several  in  "  whites,"  and  that 
Mag   Munn    had   only  at  the   last   moment 


LADS  AND  LASSES.  107 

been  dissuaded  from  wearing  flowers.  The 
minister,  the  Auld  Lichts  congratulated 
themselves,  disapproved  of  all  such  decking 
of  the  person  and  bowing  of  the  head  to 
idols  ;  but  on  such  an  occasion  he  was  not 
expected  to  observe  it  Bell  Whamond, 
however,  has  reason  for  knowing  that,  mar- 
riages or  no  marriages,  he  drew  the  line  at 
curls. 

By  and  by  Sam'l  Todd,  looking  a  little 
dazed,  was  pushed  into  the  middle  of  the 
room  to  Tibbie's  side,  and  the  minister  raised 
his  voice  in  prayer.  All  eyes  closed  rever- 
ently, except  perhaps  the  bridegroom's, 
which  seemed  glazed  and  vacant.  It  was 
an  open  question  in  the  community  whether 
Mr.  Dishart  did  not  miss  his  chance  at 
weddings  ;  the  men  shaking  their  heads  over 
the  comparative  brevity  of  the  ceremony, 
the  women  worshipping  him  (though  he 
never  hesitated  to  rebuke  them  when  they 
showed  it  too  openly)  for  the  urbanity  of  his 
manners.  At  that  time,  however,  only  a 
minister  of  such  experience  as  Mr.  Dishart's 


loS  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

predecessor  could  lead  up  to  a  marriage  in 
prayer  without  inadvertently  joining  the 
couple  ;  and  the  catechizing  was  mercifully 
brief.  Another  prayer  followed  the  union  ; 
the  minister  waived  his  right  to  kiss  the 
bride;  every  one  looked  at  every  other  one, 
as  if  he  had  for  the  moment  forgotten  what 
he  was  on  the  point  of  saying  and  found  it 
very  annoying ;  and  Janet  signed  frantically 
to  Willie  Todd,  who  nodded  intelligently  in 
reply,  but  evidently  had  no  idea  what  she 
meant.  In  time  Johnny  Allardice,  our  host, 
who  became  more  and  more  doited  as  the  night 
proceeded,  remembered  his  instructions,  and 
led  the  way  to  the  kitchen,  where  the  guests, 
having  politely  informed  their  hostess  that 
they  were  not  hungry,  partook  of  a  hearty 
tea.  Mr.  Dishart  presided  with  the  bride 
and  bridegroom  near  him ;  but  though  he 
tried  to  give  an  agreeable  turn  to  the  con- 
versation by  describing  the  extensions  at  the 
cemetery,  his  personality  oppressed  us,  and 
we  only  breathed  freely  when  he  rose  to  go. 
Yet  we    marvelled    at    his  versatility.      Id 


LADS  AND  LASSES,  109 

shaking  hands  with  the  newly- married 
couple  the  minister  reminded  them  that  it 
was  leap-year,  and  wished  them  "three 
hundred  and  sixty-six  happy  and  God-fearing 
days." 

Sam'l's  station  being  too  high  for  it.  Tibbie 
did  not  have  a  penny  wedding  which  her 
thrifty  mother  bewailed,  penny  weddings 
starting  a  couple  in  life.  I  can  recall  nothing 
more  characteristic  of  the  nation  from  which 
the  Auld  Lichts  sprung  than  the  penny 
wedding,  where  the  only  revellers  that  were 
not  out  of  pocket  by  it,  were  the  couple  who 
gave  the  entertainment.  The  more  the  guests 
ate  and  drank  the  better,  pecuniarily,  for  their 
hosts.  The  charge  for  admission  to  the 
penny  wedding  (practically  to  the  feast  that 
followed  it)  varied  in  different  districts,  but 
with  us  it  was  generally  a  shilling.  Perhaps 
the  penny  extra  to  the  fiddler  accounts  for 
the  name  penny  wedding.  The  ceremony 
having  been  gone  through  in  the  bride's 
house,  there  was  an  adjournment  to  a  barn  or 
other  convenient  place  of  meeting,  where  was 


I  lo  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

held  the  nuptial  feast,  long  white  boards 
from  Rob  Angus's  sawmill,  supported  on 
trestles,  stood  in  lieu  of  tables  ;  and  those  of 
the  company  vyho  could  not  find  a  seat  waited 
patiently  against  the  wall  for  a  vacancy.  The 
shilling  gave  every  guest  the  free  run  of  the 
groaning  board,  but  though  fowls  were  plenti- 
ful, and  even  white  bread  too,  little  had  been 
spent  on  them.  The  farmers  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, who  looked  forward  to  providing 
the  young  people  with  drills  of  potatoes 
for  the  coming  winter,  made  a  bid  for  their 
custom  by  sending  them  a  fowl  gratis  for  the 
marriage  supper.  It  was  popularly  under- 
stood to  be  the  oldest  cock  of  the  farmyard, 
but  for  all  that  it  made  a  brave  appearance 
in  a  shallow  sea  of  soup.  The  fowls  were 
always  boiled — without  exception,  so  far  as 
my  memory  carries  me  ;  the  guid-wife  never 
having  the  heart  to  roast  them,  and  so  lose 
the  broth.  One  round  of  whisky-and-water 
was  all  the  drink  to  which  his  shilling  entitled 
the  guest.  If  he  wanted  more  he  had  to  pay 
for  it.     There  was  much  revelry,  with  song 


LADS  AND  LASSES,  in 

and  dance,  that  no  stranger  could  have 
thought  those  stiff-limbed  weavers  capable 
of;  and  the  more  they  shouted  and  whirled 
through  the  barn,  the  more  their  host  smiled 
and  rubbed  his  hands.  He  presided  at  the 
bar  improvised  for  the  occasion,  and  if  the 
thing  was  conducted  with  spirit,  his  bride 
flung  an  apron  over  her  gown  and  helped 
him.  I  remember  one  elderly  bridegroom, 
who,  having  married  a  blind  woman,  had  to 
do  double  work  at  his  penny  wedding.  It 
was  a  sight  to  see  him  flitting  about  the 
torch-lit  barn,  with  a  kettle  of  hot  water  in 
one  hand  and  a  besom  to  sweep  up  crumbs  in 
the  other. 

Though  Sam'l  had  no  penny  wedding, 
however,  we  made  a  night  of  it  at  his 
marriage. 

Wedding  chariots  were  not  in  those  days, 
though  I  know  of  Auld  Lichts  being  conveyed 
to  marriages  nowadays  by  horses  with  white 
ears.  The  tea  over,  we  formed  in  couples, 
and — the  best  man  with  the  bride,  the  bride- 
groom with  the  best  maid,  leading  the  way— 


112  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

marched  in  slow  procession  in  the  moonh'ght 
night  to  Tibbie's  new  home,  between  lines  of 
hoarse  and  eager  onlookers.  An  attempt  was 
made  by  an  itinerant  musician  to  head  the 
company  with  his  fiddle  ;  but  instrumental 
music,  even  in  the  streets,  was  abhorrent  to 
sound  Auld  Lichts,  and  the  minister  had 
spoken  privately  to  Willie  Todd  on  the  sub- 
ject As  a  consequence,  Peter  was  driven 
from  the  ranks.  The  last  thing  I  saw  that 
night,  as  we  filed,  bare-headed  and  solemn, 
into  the  newly-married  couple's  house,  was 
Kitty  McQueen's  vigorous  arm,  in  a  dishev- 
elled sleeve,  pounding  a  pair  of  urchins 
who  had  got  between  her  and  a  muddy 
ha'penny. 

That  night  there  was  revelry  and  boisterous 
mirth  (or  what  the  Auld  Lichts  took  for  such) 
in  Tibbie's  kitchen.  At  eleven  o'clock  Davit 
Lunan  cracked  a  joke.  Davie  Haggart,  in 
reply  to  Bell  Dundas's  request,  gave  a  song 
of  distinctly  secular  tendencies.  The  bride 
(who  had  carefully  taken  off  her  wedding 
gown  on  getting  home  and  donned  a  wrapper) 


LADS  AND  LASSES.  113 

coquettishly  let  the  bridegroom's  father  hold 
her  hand.  In  Auld  Licht  circles,  when  one 
of  the  company  was  offered  whisky  and  re- 
fused it,  the  others,  as  if  pained  even  at  the 
offer,  pushed  it  from  them  as  a  thing  ab- 
horred. But  Davie  Haggart  set  another 
example  on  this  occasion,  and  no  one  had 
the  courage  to  refuse  to  follow  it.  We  sat 
late  round  the  dying  fire,  and  it  was  only 
Willie  Todd's  scandalous  assertion  (he  was 
but  a  boy)  about  his  being  able  to  dance  that 
induced  us  to  think  of  moving.  In  the 
community,  I  understand,  this  marriage  is 
still  memorable  as  the  occasion  on  which  Bell 
Whamond  laughed  io  the  minister's  face; 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  AULD  LIGHTS  IN  ARMS. 

Arms  and  men  I  sing :  douce  Jeemsy  Todd, 
rushing  from  his  loom,  armed  with  a  bed- 
post ;  Lisbeth  Whamond,  an  avenging  whirl- 
wind ;  Neil  Haggart,  pausing  in  his  thanks- 
offerings  to  smite  and  slay ;  the  impious  foe 
scudding  up  the  bleeding  Brae-head  with 
Nemesis  at  their  flashing  heels  ;  the  minister 
holding  it  a  nice  question  whether  the  carnage 
was  not  justified.  Then  came  the  two  hours' 
sermons  of  the  following  Sabbath,  when  Mr. 
Dishart,  revolving  like  a  teetotum  in  the 
pulpit,  damned  every  bandaged  person  pre- 
sent, individually  and  collectively  ;  and  Lang 
Tammas,  in  the  precentor's  box  with  a  plaster 
on  his  cheek,  included  any  one  the  minister 


.      THE  AULD  LIGHTS  IN  ARMS.         115 

might  have  by  chance  omitted,  and  the  con- 
gregation, with  most  of  their  eyes  bunged  up^, 
burst  into  psalms  of  praise. 

Twice  a  year  the  Auld  Lichts  went  de- 
mented. The  occasion  was  the  Fast  Day  at 
Tilliedrum  ;  when  its  inhabitants,  instead  of 
crowding  reverently  to  the  kirk,  swooped 
profanely  down  in  their  scores  and  tens  of 
scores  on  our  God-fearing  town,  intent  on  mak- 
ing a  day  of  it.  Then  did  the  weavers  rise  as 
one  man,  and  go  forth  to  show  the  ribald  crew 
the  errors  of  their  way.  All  denominations 
were  represented,  but  Auld  Lichts  led.  An 
Auld  Licht  would  have  taken  no  man's  blood 
without  the  conviction  that  he  would  be  the 
better  morally  for  the  bleeding ;  and  ifTammas 
Lunan's  case  gave  an  impetus  to  the  blows,  it 
can  only  have  been  because  it  opened  wider 
Auld  Licht  eyes  to  Tilliedrum's  desperate 
condition.  Mr.  Dishart's  predecessor  more 
than  once  remarked,  that  at  the  Creation 
the  devil  put  forward  a  claim  for  Thrums, 
but  said  he  would  take  his  chance  of 
Tilliedrum  ;    and  the   statement   was  gener- 


1 16  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

ally  understood  to  be  made  on  the  authority 
of  the  original  Hebrew. 

The  mustard-seed  of  a  feud  between  the 
two  parishes  shot  into  a  tall  tree  in  a  single 
night,  when  Davit  Lunan's  father  went  to  a 
tattie  roup  at  Tilliedrum  and  thoughtlessly 
died  there.  Twenty-four  hours  afterwards  a 
small  party  oi  staid  Auld  Lichts,  carrying 
long  white  poles,  stepped  out  of  various  wynds 
and  closes  and  picked  their  solemn  way  to 
the  house  of  mourning.  Nanny  Low,  the 
widow,  received  them  dejectedly,  as  one  op- 
pressed by  the  knowledge  that  her  man's 
death  at  such  an  inopportune  place  did  not 
fulfil  the  promise  of  his  youth;  and  her  guests 
admitted  bluntly  that  they  were  disappointed 
in  Tammas.  Snecky  Hobart's  father's  un- 
usually long  and  impressive  prayer  was  an 
official  intimation  that  the  deceased,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  session,  sorely  needed  every- 
thing of  the  kind  he  could  get ;  and  then  the 
silent  driblet  of  Auld  Lichts  in  black  stalked 
off  in  the  direction  of  Tilliedrum.  Women 
left  their  spinning-wheels  and  pirns  to  follow 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHTS  IN  ARMS.        1 1 7 

them  with  their  eyes  along  the  Tenements, 
and  the  minister  was  known  to  be  holding  an 
extra  service  at  the  manse.  When  the  little 
procession  reached  the  boundary- line  between 
the  two  parishes,  they  sat  down  on  a  dyke 
and  waited. 

By  and  by  half  a  dozen  men  drew  near  from 
the  opposite  direction,'  bearing  on  poles  the 
remains  of  Tammas  Lunan  in  a  closed  coffin. 
The  cofiin  was  brought  to  within  thirty  yards 
of  those  who  awaited  it,  and  then  roughly 
lowered  to  the  ground.  Its  bearers  rested 
morosely  on  their  poles.  In  conveying  Lunan's 
remains  to  the  borders  of  his  own  parish  they 
were  only  conforming  to  custom  ;  but  Thrums 
and  Tilliedrum  differed  as  to  where  the  boun- 
dary-line was  drawn,  and  not  a  foot  would 
either  advance  into  the  other's  territory.  For 
half  a  day  the  cofiin  lay  unclaimed,  and  the 
two  parties  sat  scowling  at  each  other.  Neither 
dared  move.  Gloaming  had  stolen  into  the 
valley  when  Dite  Deuchars  of  Tilliedrum  rose 
to  his  feet  and  deliberately  spat  upon  the 
coffin.    A  stone  whizzed  through  the  air ;  and 


1 1 8  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

then  the  ugly  spectacle  was  presented,  in 
the  grey  night,  of  a  dozen  mutes  fighting  with 
their  poles  over  a  coffin.  There  was  blood 
on  the  shoulders  that  bore  Tammas's  remains 
to  Thrums. 

After  that  meeting  Tilliedrum  lived  for  the 
Fast  Day.  Never,  perhaps,  was  there  a  com- 
munity more  given  up  to  sin,  and  Thrums 
felt  "  called  "  to  its  chastisement  The 
insult  to  Lunan's  coffin,  however,  dispirited 
their  weavers  for  a  time,  and  not  until  the 
suicide  of  Pitlums  did  they  put  much  fervour 
into  their  prayers.  It  made  new  men  of  them. 
Tilliedrum's  sins  had  found  it  out  Pitlums 
was  a  farmer  in  the  parish  of  Thrums,  but  he 
had  been  born  at  Tilliedrum  ;  and  Thrums 
thanked  Providence  for  that,  when  it  saw  him 
suspended  between  two  hams  from  his  kitchen 
rafters.  The  custom  was  to  cart  suicides  to 
the  quarry  at  the  Galla  pond  and  bury 
them  near  the  cairn  that  had  supported  the 
gallows  ;  but  on  this  occasion  not  a  farmer  in 
the  parish  would  lend  a  cart,  and  for  a  week 
the  corpse  lay  on  the  sanded  floor  as  it  had 


THE  AULD  LIGHTS  IN  ARMS.         119 

been  cut  down — an  object  of  awe-struck 
interest  to  boys  who  knew  no  better  than  to 
peep  through  the  darkened  window.  Tillie- 
drum  bit  its  lips  at  home.  The  Auld  Licht 
minister,  it  was  said,  had  been  approached  on 
the  subject  ;  but,  after  serious  consideration, 
did  not  see  his  way  to  offering  up  a  prayer. 
Finally  old  Hobart  and  two  others  tied  a  rope 
round  the  body,  and  dragged  it  from  the  farm 
to  the  cairn,  a  distance  of  four  miles.  Instead 
of  this  incident's  humbling  Tilliedrum  into  at- 
tending church,  the  next  Fast  Day  saw  its 
streets  deserted.  As  for  the  Thrums  Auld 
Lichts,  only  heavy  wobs  prevented  their  walk- 
ing erect  like  men  who  had  done  their  duty. 
If  no  prayer  was  volunteered  for  Pitlums  be- 
fore his  burial,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  psalm- 
singing  after  it. 

By  early  morn  on  their  Fast  Day  the  Tillie- 
drummers  were  straggling  into  Thrums,  and 
the  weavers,  already  at  their  looms,  read 
the  clattering  of  feet  and  carts  aright.  To 
convince  themselves,  all  they  had  to  do  was  to 
raise  their  eyes  ;  but  the  first  triumph  would 


1 20  A  VLB  LICH  T  ID  YLLS. 

have  been  to  Tilliedrum  if  they  had  done  that 
The  invaders — the  men  in  Aberdeen  blue  serge 
coats,  velvet  knee-breeches,  and  broad  blue 
bonnets,  and  the  wincey  gowns  of  the  women 
set  off  with  hooded  cloaks  of  red  or  tartan — 
tapped  at  the  windows  and  shouted  insultingly 
as  they  passed  ;  but,  with  pursed  lips,  Thrums 
bent  fiercely  over  its  wobs,  and  not  an  Auld 
Licht  showed  outside  his  door.  The  day 
wore  on  to  noon,  and  still  ribaldry  was  master 
of  the  wynds.  But  there  was  a  change  inside 
the  houses.  The  minister  had  pulled  down 
his  blinds  ;  moody  men  had  left  their  looms 
for  stools  by  the  fire ;  there  were  rumours  of 
a  conflict  in  Andra  Cowrie's  close,  from  which 
Kitty  ]\IcQueen  had  emerged  with  her  short 
gown  in  rags  ;  and  Lang  Tammas  was  going 
from  door  to  door.  The  austere  precentor 
admonished  fiery  youth  to  beware  of  giving 
way  to  passion  ;  and  it  was  a  proud  day  for 
the  Auld  Lichts  to  find  their  leading  elder  so 
conversant  with  apt  Scripture  texts.  They 
bowed  their  heads  reverently  while  he  thun- 
dered forth  that  those  who  lived  by  the  sword 


THE  AULD  LIGHTS  IN  ARMS.        I2r 

would  perish  by  the  sword  ;  and  when  he  had 
finished  they  took  him  ben  to  inspect  their 
bludgeons.  I  have  a  vivid  recollection  of 
going  the  round  of  the  Auld  Licht  and  other 
houses  to  see  the  sticks  and  the  wrists  in 
coils  of  wire. 

A  stranger  in  the  Tenements  in  the  after- 
noon would  have  noted  more  than  one  draggled 
youth,  in  holiday  attire,  sitting  on  a  doorstep 
with  a  wet  cloth  to  his  nose  ;  and,  passing 
down  the  Commonty,  he  would  have  had  to 
step  over  prostrate  lumps  of  humanity  from 
which  all  shape  had  departed.  Gavin  Ogilvy 
limped  heavily  after  his  encounter  with 
Thrummy  Tosh — a  struggle  that  was  looked 
forward  to  eagerly  as  a  bi-yearly  event ;  Christy 
Davie's  development  of  muscle  had  not 
prevented  her  going  down  before  the  terrible 
onslaught  of  Joe  the  miller,  and  Lang 
Tammas's  plasters  told  a  tale.  It  was  in  the 
square  that  the  two  parties,  leading  their 
maimed  and  blind,  formed  in  force  ;  Tillie- 
drum  thirsting  for  its  opponents'  blood,  and 
Thrums    humbly    accepting    the      responsi- 


122  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

bility  of  punching  the  Fast  Day  breakers  into 
the  ways  of  rectitude.  In  the  small  ill-kept 
square  the  invaders,  to  the  number  of  about 
a  hundred,  were  wedged  together  at  its  upper 
end,  while  the  Thrums  people  formed  in  a 
thick  line  at  the  foot.  For  its  inhabitants  the 
way  to  Tilliedrum  lay  through  this  threatening 
mass  of  armed  weavers.  No  words  were 
bandied  between  the  two  forces  ;  the  centre  of 
the  square  was  left  open,  and  nearly  every 
eye  was  fixed  on  the  townhouse  clock.  It 
directed  operations  and  gave  the  signal  to 
charge.  The  moment  six  o'clock  struck,  the 
upper  mass  broke  its  bonds  and  flung  itself  on 
the  living  barricade.  There  was  a  clatter  of 
heads  and  sticks,  a  yelling  and  a  groaning,  and 
then  the  invaders,  bursting  through  the  op- 
posing ranks,  fled  for  Tilliedrum.  Down  the 
Tanage  brae  and  up  the  Brae-head  they 
skurried,  half  a  hundred  avenging  spirits  in 
pursuit.  On  the  Tilliedrum  Fast  Day  I  have 
tasted  blood  myself  In  the  godless  place 
there  is  no  Auld  Licht  kirk,  but  there  are  two 
Auld  Lichts  in  it  now  who  walk  to  Thrums 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHTS  IN  ARMS.        123 

to  church  every  Sabbath,  blow  or  rain  as  it 
lists.  They  are  making  their  influence  felt  in 
Tilliedrum. 

The  Auld  Lichts  also  did  valorous  deeds  at 
the  Battle  of  Cabbylatch.  The  farm  land  so 
named  lies  a  mile  or  more  to  the  south  of 
Thrums.  You  have  to  go  over  the  rim  of  the 
cup  to  reach  it.  It  is  low-lying  and  uninte- 
resting to  the  eye,  except  for  some  giant  stones 
scattered  cold  and  naked  through  the  fields. 
No  human  hands  reared  these  boulders,  but 
they  might  be  looked  upon  as  tombstones  to 
the  heroes  who  fell  (to  rise  hurriedly)  on  the 
plain  of  Cabbylatch. 

The  fight  of  Cabbylatch  belongs  to  the  days 
of  what  are  now  but  dimly  remembered  as  the 
Meal  Mobs.  Then  there  was  a  wild  cry 
all  over  the  country  for  bread  (not  the  fine 
loaves  that  we  know,  but  something  very 
much  coarser),  and  hungry  men  and  women, 
prematurely  shrunken,  began  to  forget  the 
taste  of  meal.  Potatoes  were  their  chief  sus- 
tenance, and,  when  the  crop  failed,  star- 
vation gripped  them.  At  that  time  the  farmers, 


124  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS, 

having  control  of  the  meal,  had  the  small  towns 
at  their  mercy,  and  they  increased  its  cost 
The  price  of  the  meal  went  up  and  up,  until  the 
famishing  people  swarmed  up  the  sides  of  the 
carts  in  which  it^s  conveyed  to  the  towns,  and, 
tearing  open  the  sacks,  devoured  it  in  handfuls. 
In  Thrums  they  had  a  stern  sense  of  justice, 
and  for  a  time,  after  taking  possession  of  the 
meal,  they  carried  it  to  the  square  and  sold  it 
at  what  they  considered  a  reasonable  price. 
The  money  was  handed  over  to  the  farmers. 
The  honesty  of  this  is  worth  thinking  about, 
but  it  seems  to  have  only  incensed  the  farmers 
the  more  ;  and  when  they  saw  that  to  send 
their  meal  to  the  town  was  not  to  get  high 
prices  for  it,  they  laid  their  heads  together  and 
then  gave  notice  that  the  people  who  wanted 
meal  and  were  able  to  pay  for  it  must  come  to 
the  farms.  In  Thrums  no  one  who  cared  to 
live  on  porridge  and  bannocks  had  money  to 
satisfy  the  farmers  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
none  of  them  grudged  going  for  it,  and  go 
they  did.  They  went  in  numbers  from  farm 
to    farm,   like    bands    of    hungry   rats,   and 


THE  AULD  LIGHTS  IN  ARMS.         125 

throttled  the  opposition  they  not  infrequently 
encountered.  The  raging  farmers  at  last 
met  in  council  and,  noting  that  they  were  lusty 
men  and  brave,  resolved  to  march  in  armed 
force  upon  the  erring  people  and  burn  their 
town.  Now  we  come  to  the  Battle  of  Cabby- 
latch. 

The  farmers  were  not  less  than  eighty 
strong,  and  chiefly  consisted  of  cavalry. 
Armed  with  pitchforks  and  cumberous  scythes 
where  they  were  not  able  to  lay  their  hands 
on  the  more  orthodox  weapons  of  war,  they 
presented  a  determined  appearance  ;  the  few 
foot-soldiers  who  had  no  cart-horses  at  their 
disposal  bearing  in  their  arms  bundles  of  fire- 
wood. One  memorable  morning  they  set  out  to 
avenge  their  losses  ;  and  by  and  by  a  halt 
was  called,  when  each  man  bowed  his  head  to 
listen.  In  Thrums,  pipe  and  drum  were 
calling  the  inhabitants  to  arms.  Scouts 
rushed  in  with  the  news  that  the  farmers 
were  advancing  rapidly  upon  the  town,  and 
soon  the  streets  were  clattering  with 
feet.     At  that  time  Thrums  had  its  piper  and 


1 26  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

drummer  (the  bellman  of  a  later  and  more 
degenerate  age)  ;  and  on  this  occasion  they 
marched  together  through  the  narrow  wynds, 
firing  the  blood  of  haggard  men  and  summon- 
ing them  to  the  square.  According  to  my 
informant's  father,  the  gathering  of  these 
angry  and  startled  weavers,  when  he  thrust  his 
blue  b,onnet  on  his  head  and  rushed  out  to 
join  them,  was  an  impressive  and  solemn 
spectacle.  That  bloodshed  was  meant  there 
can  be  no  doubt ;  for  starving  men  do  not  see 
the  ludicrous  side  of  things.  The  difference 
between  the  farmers  and  the  town  had 
resolved  itself  into  an  ugly  and  sullen  hate, 
and  the  wealthier  townsmen  who  would  have 
come  between  the  people  and  the  bread  were 
fiercely  pushed  aside.  There  was  no  nominal 
leader,  but  every  man  in  the  ranks  meant  to 
fight  for  himself  and  his  belongings  ;  and 
they  are  said  to  have  sallied  out  to  meet  the 
foe  in  no  disorder.  The  women  they  would 
fain  have  left  behind  them  ;  but  these  had 
their  own  injuries  to  redress,  and  they 
followed    in    their   husbands'    wake   carrying 


THE  AULD  LIGHTS  IN  ARMS,         127 

bags  of  stones.  The  men,  who  were  of 
various  denominations,  were  armed  with 
sticks,  blunderbusses,  anything  they  could 
snatch  up  at  a  moment's  notice  ;  and  some 
of  them  were  not  unacquainted  with  fighting. 
Dire  silence  prevailed  among  the  men,  but 
the  women  shouted  as  they  ran,  and  the 
curious  army  moved  forward  to  the  drone 
and  squall  of  drum  and  pipe.  The  enemy 
was  sighted  on  the  level  land  of  Cabbylatch  ; 
and  here,  while  the  intending  combatants 
glared  at  each  other,  a  well-known  local 
magnate  galloped  his  horse  between  them 
and  ordered  them  in  the  name  of  the  King 
to  return  to  their  homes.  But  for  the  farmers 
that  meant  further  depredation  at  the  people's 
hands,  and  the  townsmen  would  not  go  back 
to  their  gloomy  homes  to  sit  down  and 
wait  for  sunshine.  Soon  stones  (the  first, 
it  is  said,  cast  by  a  woman)  darkened  the  air. 
The  farmers  got  the  word  to  charge,  but  their 
horses,  with  the  best  intentions,  did  not  know 
the  way.  There  was  a  stampeding  in  different 
directions,  a  blind  rushing  of  one  frightened 


128  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

steed  against  another  ;  and  then  the  towns- 
people, breaking  any  ranks  they  had  hitherto 
managed  to  keep,  rushed  vindictively  forward. 
The  struggle  at  Cabbylatch  itself  was  not  of 
long  duration  ;  for  their  own  horses  proved 
the  farmers'  worst  enemies,  except  in  the 
cases  where  these  sagacious  animals  took 
matters  into  their  own  ordering  and  bolted 
judiciously  for  their  stables.  The  day  was 
to  Thrums. 

Individual  deeds  of  prowess  were  done  that 
day.  Of  these  not  the  least  fondly  remem- 
bered by  her  descendants  were  those  of  the 
gallant  matron  who  pursued  the  most  ob- 
noxious farmer  in  the  district  even  to  his 
very  porch  with  heavy  stones  and  opprobrious 
epithets.  Once  when  he  thought  he  had  left 
her  far  behind  did  he  alight  to  draw  breath 
and  take  a  pinch  of  snuff,  and  she  was  upon 
him  like  a  flail.  With  a  terror-stricken 
cry  he  leapt  once  more  upon  his  horse  and 
fled,  but  not  without  leaving  his  snuff-box  in 
the  hands  of  the  derisive  enemy.  Meggy  has 
long  gone  to  the  kirkyard,  but  the  snuff-mull 
is  still  preserved. 


THE  A  ULD  LIGHTS  JN  ARMS.        129 

Some  ugly  cuts  were  given  and  received, 
and  heads  as  well  as  ribs  were  broken  ;  but 
the  townsmen's  triumph  was  short-lived. 
The  ringleaders  were  whipped  through  the 
streets  of  Perth,  as  a  warning  to  persons 
thinking  of  taking  the  law  into  their  own 
hands  ;  and  all  the  lasting  consolation  they 
got  was  that,  some  time  afterwards,  the  chief 
witness  against  them,  the  parish  minister, 
met  with  a  mysterious  death.  They  said  it 
was  evidently  the  hand  of  God  ;  but  some 
people  looked  suspiciously  at  them  when 
they  said  it 


10 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  OLD  DOMINIE. 

From  the  new  cemetery,  which  is  the  highest 
point  in  Thrums,  you  just  fail  to  catch  sight 
of  the  red  schoolhouse  that  nestles  between 
two  bare  trees,  some  five  miles  up  the  glen  of 
Quharity.  This  was  proved  by  Davit  Lunan, 
tinsmith,  whom  I  have  heard  tell  the  story. 
It  was  in  the  time  when  the  cemetery  gates 
were  locked  to  keep  the  bodies  of  suicides 
out,  but  men  who  cared  to  risk  the  conse- 
quences could  get  the  coffin  over  the  high 
dyke  and  bury  it  themselves.  Peter  Lundy's 
coffin  broke,  as  one  might  say,  into  the 
churchyard  in  this  way,  Peter  having  hanged 
himself  in  the  Whunny  wood  when  he  saw 
that   work   he   must       The    general    feeling 


THE  OLD  DOMINIE.  131 

among   the   intimates,  of  the    deceased   was 
expressed  by  Davit  when  he  said  : 

"  It  may  do  the  crittur  nae  guid  i'  the  tail 
o'  the  day,  but  he  paid  for's  bit  o'  ground,  an' 
he's  in's  richt  to  occupy  it." 

The  custom  was  to  push  the  coffin  on  to 
the  wall  up  a  plank,  and  then  let  it  drop  less 
carefully  into  the  cemetery.  Some  of  the 
mourners  were  dragging  the  plank  over  the 
wall,  with  Davit  Lunan  on  the  top  directing 
them,  when  they  seem  to  have  let  go  and  sent 
the  tinsmith  suddenly  into  the  air.  A  week 
afterwards  it  struck  Davit,  when  in  the  act  of 
soldering  a  hole  in  Leeby  Wheens's  flagon 
(here  he  branched  off  to  explain  that  he  had 
made  the  flagon  years  before,  and  that  Leeby 
was  sister  to  Tammas  Wheens,  and  married 
one  Baker  Robbie,  who  died  of  chicken-pox 
in  his  forty-fourth  year),  that  when  "  up 
there"  he  had  a  view  of  Quharity  school- 
house.  Davit  was  as  truthful  as  a  man  who 
tells  the  same  story  more  than  once  can  be 
expected  to  be,  and  it  is  far  from  a  suspicious 
circunnstance  that  he  did  not  remember  seeing 


133  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

the  schoolhouse  all  at  once.  In  Thrums 
things  only  struck  them  gradually.  The  new 
cemetery,  for  instance,  was  only  so  called 
because  it  had  been  new  once. 

In  this  red  stone  school,  full  of  the 
modern  improvements  that  he  detested,  the 
old  dominie  whom  I  succeeded  taught,  and 
sometimes  slept,  during  the  last  five  years  of 
his  cantankerous  life.  It  was  in  a  little 
thatched  school,  consisting  of  but  one  room, 
that  he  did  his  best  work,  some  five  hundred 
yards  away  from  the  edifice  that  was  reared 
in  its  stead.  Now  dismally  fallen  into 
disrepute,  often  indeed  a  domicile  for  cattle, 
the  ragged  academy  of  Glen  Quharity,  where 
he  held  despotic  sway  for  nearly  half  a  cen- 
tury, is  falling  to  pieces  slowly  in  a  howe  that 
conceals  it  from  the  high  road.  Even  in  its 
best  scholastic  days,  when  it  sent  barefooted 
lads  to  college  who  helped  to  hasten  the 
Disruption,  it  was  but  a  pile  of  ungainly 
stones,  such  as  Scott's  Black  Dwarf  flung 
together  in  a  night,  with  holes  in  its  broken 
roof  of  thatch  where  the  rain  trickled  through, 


THE  OLD  DOMINIE.  133 

and  never  with  less  than  two  of  its  knotted 
little  window  -  panes  stopped  with  brown 
paper.  The  twelve  or  twenty  pupils  of 
both  sexes  who  constituted  the  attendance 
sat  at  the  two  loose  desks,  which  never  fell 
unless  you  leaned  on  them,  with  an  eye  on 
the  corner  of  the  earthen  floor  where  the 
worms  came  out,  and  on  cold  days  they  liked 
the  wind  to  turn  the  peat  smoke  into  the 
room.  One  boy,  who  was  supposed  to  wash 
it  out,  got  his  education  free  for  keeping  the 
sc'hoolhouse  dirty,  and  the  others  paid  their 
way  with  peats,  which  they  brought  in  their 
hands,  just  as  wealthier  school-children  carry 
books,  and  with  pence  which  the  dominie 
collected  regularly  every  Monday  morning. 
The  attendance  on  Monday  mornings  was 
often  small. 

Once  a  year  the  dominie  added  to  his 
income  by  holding  cockfights  in  the  old 
school.  This  was  at  Yule,  and  the  same 
practice  held  in  the  parish  school  of  Thrums. 
It  must  have  been  a  strange  sight.  Every 
male  scholar  was  expected  to  bring  a  cock  to 


1 54  A  ULD  LICHT  ID  YLLS. 

the  school,  and  to  pay  a  shilling  to  the 
dominie  for  the  privilege  of  seeing  it  killed 
there.  The  dominie  was  the  master  of  the 
sports,  assisted  by  the  neighbouring  farmers, 
some  of  whom  might  be  elders  of  the  churcli. 
Three  rounds  were  fought.  By  the  end  of 
the  first  round  all  the  cocks  had  fought,  and 
tiie  victors  were  then  pitted  against  each 
other.  The  cocks  that  survived  the  second 
round  u'ere  eligible  for  the  third,  and  the 
dominie,  besides  his  shilling,  got  every  cock 
killed.  Sometimes,  if  all  stories  be  true,  the 
spectators  were  fighting  with  each  other 
before  the  third  round  concluded. 

The  glen  was  but  sparsely  dotted  with  houses 
even  in  those  days ;  a  number  of  them  inhabited 
by  farmer-weavers,  who  combined  two  trades 
and  just  managed  to  live.  One  would  have 
a  plough,  another  a  horse,  and  so  in  Glen 
Quharity  they  helped  each  other.  Without 
a  loom  in  addition  many  of  them  would  have 
starved,  and  on  Saturdays  the  big  farmer  and 
his  wife,  driving  home  in  a  gig,  would  pass 
the  little  farmer  carrying  or  wheeling  his  wob 


THE  OLD  DOMINIE.  135 

to  Thrums.  When  there  was  no  longer  a 
market  for  the  produce  of  the  handloom 
these  farms  had  to  be  given  up,  and  thus  it 
is  that  the  old  school  is  not  the  ^nly  house 
in  our  weary  glen  around  which  gooseberry 
and  currant  bushes,  once  tended  by  careful 
hands,  now  grow  wild. 

In  heavy  spates  the  children  were  conveyed 
to  the  old  school,  as  they  are  still  to  the  new 
one,  in  carts,  and  between  it  and  the  dominie's 
white-washed  dwelling-house  swirled  in  winter 
a  torrent  of  water  that  often  carried  lumps  of 
the  land  along  with  it  This  burn  he  had  at 
times  to  ford  on  stilts. 

Before  the  Education  Act  passed  the 
dominie  was  not  much  troubled  by  the  school 
inspector,  who  appeared  in  great  splendour 
every  year  at  Thrums.  Fifteen  years  ago, 
however,  Glen  Quharity  resolved  itself  into 
a  School  Board,  and  marched  down  the  glen, 
with  the  minister  at  its  head,  to  condemn  the 
school.  When  the  dominie,  who  had  heard 
of  their  design,  saw  the  Board  approaching, 
he  sent   one   of   his   scholars,    who   enjoyed 


136  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

making  a  mess  of  himself,  wading  across  the 
burn  to  bring  over  the  stilts  which  were  lying 
on  the  other  side.  The  Board  were  thus 
unable  to  send  across  a  spokesman,  and  after 
they  had  harangued  the  dominie,  who  was  in 
the  best  of  tempers,  from  the  wrong  side  of  the 
stream,  the  siege  was  raised  by  their  return- 
ing home,  this  time  with  the  minister  in 
the  rear.  So  far  as  is  known  this  was  the 
only  occasion  on  which  the  dominie  ever 
lifted  his  hat  to  the  minister.  He  was  the 
Established  Church  minister  at  the  top  of 
the  glen,  but  the  dominie  was  an  Auld  Licht, 
and  trudged  into  Thrums  to  church  nearly 
every  Sunday  with  his  daughter. 

The  farm  of  Little  Tilly  lay  so  close 
to  the  dominie's  house  that  from  one 
window  he  could  see  through  a  telescope 
whether  the  farmer  was  going  to  church, 
owing  to  Little  Tilly's  habit  of  never  shaving 
except  with  that  intention,  and  of  always 
doing  it  at  a  looking-glass  which  he  hung 
on  a  nail  in  his  door.  The  farmer  was  Estab- 
lished  Church,   and   when   the   dominie  saw 


THE  OLD  DOMINIE.  137 

him  in  his  shirt-sleeves  with  a  razor  in  his 
hand,  he  called  for  his  black  clothes.  If  he 
did  not  see  him  it  is  undeniable  that  the 
dominie  sent  his  daughter  to  Thrums,  but  re- 
mained at  home  himself.  Possibly,  therefore, 
the  dominie  sometimes  went  to  church,  be- 
cause he  did  not  want  to  give  Little  Tilly 
and  the  Established  minister  the  satisfaction 
of  knowing  that  he  was  not  devout  to-day, 
and  it  is  even  conceivable  that  had  Little  Tilly 
had  a  telescope  and  an  intellect  as  well  as 
his  neighbour,  he  would  have  spied  on  the 
dominie  in  return.  He  sent  the  teacher  a 
load  of  potatoes  every  year,  and  the 
recipient  rated  him  soundly  if  they  did  not 
turn  out  as  well  as  the  ones  he  had  got 
the  autumn  before.  Little  Tilly  was  rather 
in  awe  of  the  dominie,  and  had  an  idea 
that  he  was  a  Freethinker,  because  he  played 
the  fiddle  and  wore  a  black  cap. 

The  dominie  was  a  wizened-looking  little 
man,  with  sharp  eyes  that  pierced  you  when 
they  thought  they  were  unobserved,  and  if 
any  visitor  drew  near  who  might  be  a  member 


1 38  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

of  the  Board,  he  disappeared  into  his  house 
much  as  a  startled  weazel  makes  for  its  hole. 
The  most  striking  thing  about  him  was  his 
walk,  which  to  the  casual  observer  seemed 
a  limp.  The  glen  in  our  part  is  marshy, 
and  to  progress  along  it  you  have  to  jump 
from  one  little  island  of  grass  or  heather  to 
another.  Perhaps  it  was  this  that  made  the 
dominie  take  the  main  road  and  even  the 
streets  of  Thrums  in  leaps,  as  if  there  were 
boulders  or  puddles  in  the  way.  It  is,  how- 
ever, currently  believed  among  those  who 
knew  him  best  that  he  jerked  himself 
along  in  that  way  when  he  applied  for  the 
vacancy  in  Glen  Quharity  school,  and  that  he 
was  therefore  chosen  from  among  the  candidates 
by  the  committee  of  farmers,  who  saw  that  he 
was  specially  constructed  for  the  district. 

In  the  spring  the  inspector  was  sent  to 
report  on  the  school,  and,  of  course,  he  said, 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  that  this  would 
never  do.  So  a  new  school  was  built,  and 
the  ramshackle  little  academy  that  had  done 
good  service  in  its  day  was  closed  for  the  last 


THE  OLD  DOMINIE.  139 

time.  For  years  it  had  been  without  a  lock  ; 
ever  since  a  blatter  of  wind  and  rain  drove 
the  door  against  the  fireplace.  After  that  it 
was  the  dominie's  custom,  on  seeing  the  room 
cleared,  to  send  in  a  smart  boy — a  dux  was 
always  chosen — who  wedged  a  clod  of  earth  or 
peat  between  doorpost  and  door.  Thus  the 
school  was  locked  up  for  the  night.  The  boy 
came  out  by  the  window,  where  he  entered  to 
open  the  door  next  morning.  In  time  grass  hid 
the  little  path  from  view  that  led  to  the  old 
school,  and  a  dozen  years  ago  every  particle 
of  wood  about  the  building,  including  the 
door  and  the  framework  of  the  windows,  had 
been  burned  by  travelling  tinkers. 

The  Board  would  have  liked  to  leave  the 
dominie  in  his  white-washed  dwelling-house 
to  enjoy  his  old  age  comfortably,  and  until  he 
learned  that  he  had  intended  to  retire.  Then 
he  changed  his  tactics  and  removed  his  beard. 
Instead  of  railing  at  the  new  school,  he  began 
to  approve  of  it,  and  it  soon  came  to  the 
ears  of  the  horrified  Established  minister, 
who  had  a  man  (Established)  in  his  eye  for 


I40  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

the  appointment,  that  the  dominie  was  lo(jk- 
ing  ten  years  younger.  As  he  spurned  a 
pension  he  had  to  get  the  place,  and  then 
began  a  warfare  of  bickerings  between  the 
Board  and  him  that  lasted  until  within  a  few 
weeks  of  his  death.  In  his  scholastic  barn 
the  dominie  had  thumped  the  Latin  grammar 
into  his  scholars  till  they  became  university 
bursars  to  escape  him.  In  the  new  school, 
with  maps  (which  he  hid  in  the  hen-house) 
and  every  other  modern  appliance  for  making 
teaching  easy,  he  was  the  scandal  of  the  glen. 
He  snapped  at  the  clerk  of  the  Board's 
throat,  and  barred  his  door  in  the  minister's 
face.  It  was  one  of  his  favourite  relaxations 
to  peregrinate  the  district,  telling  the  farmers 
who  were  not  on  the  Board  themselves,  but 
were  given  to  gossiping  with  those  who  were, 
that  though  he  could  slumber  pleasantly  in 
the  school  so  long  as  the  hum  of  the  standards 
was  kept  up,  he  immediately  woke  if  it 
ceased. 

Having  settled  himself  in  his  new  quarters, 
the  dominie  seems  to  have  read  over  the  code. 


THE  OLD  DOMINIE.  141 

and  come  at  once  to  the  conclusion  that  it 
would  be  idle  to  think  of  straightforwardly 
fulfilling  its  requirements.  The  inspector  he 
regarded  as  a  natural  enemy,  who  was  to  be 
circumvented  by  much  guile.  One  year  that 
admirable  Oxford  don  arrived  at  the  school, 
to  find  that  all  the  children,  except  two  girls — 
one  of  whom  had  her  face  tied  up  with  red 
flannel  —  were  away  for  the  harvest  On 
another  occasion  the  dominie  met  the  inspec- 
tor's trap  some  distance  from  the  school,  and 
explained  that  he  would  guide  him  by  a  short 
cut,  leaving  the  driver  to  take  the  dog-cart  to 
a  farm  where  it  could  be  put  up.  The  un- 
suspecting inspector  agreed,  and  they  set  off, 
the  obsequious  dominie  carrying  his  bag.  He 
led  his  victim  into  another  glen,  the  hills 
round  which  had  hidden  their  heads  in  mist, 
and  then  slyly  remarked  that  he  was  afraid 
they  had  lost  their  way.  The  minister,  who 
liked  to  attend  the  examination,  reproved  the 
dominie  for  providing  no  luncheon,  but  turned 
pale  when  his  enemy  suggested  that  he  should 
examine  the  boys  in  Latm. 


142  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

For  some  reason  that  I  could  never  dis- 
cover, the  dominie  had  all  his  life  refused  to 
teach  his  scholars  geography.  The  inspector 
and  many  others  asked  him  why  there  was 
no  geography  class,  and  his  invariable  answer 
was  to  point  to  his  pupils  collectively,  and 
reply  in  an  impressive  whisper — 

"  They  winna  hae  her." 

This  story,  too,  seems  to  reflect  against  the 
dominie's  views  on  cleanliness.  One  examina- 
tion day  the  minister  attended  to  open  the 
inspection  with  prayer.  Just  as  he  was  finish- 
ing, a  scholar  entered  who  had  a  reputation 
for  dirt. 

"  Michty  ! "  cried  a  little  pupil,  as  his  open- 
ing eyes  fell  on  the  apparition  at  the  door, 
"there's  Jocky  Tamson  wi'  his  face  washed  ! " 

When  the  dominie  was  a  younger  man  he 
had  first  clashed  with  the  minister  during 
Mr.  Rattray's  attempts  to  do  away  with 
some  old  customs  that  were  already  dying  by 
inches.  One  was  the  selection  of  a  queen 
of  beauty  from  among  the  young  women  at 
the  annual   Thrums   fair.     The  judges,  who 


THE  OLD  DOMINIE.  143 

were  selected  from  the  better  known  farmers 
as  a  rule,  sat  at  the  door  of  a  tent  that  reeked 
of  whisky,  and  regarded  the  competitors 
filing  by  much  as  they  selected  prize  sheep, 
with  a  stolid  stare.  There  was  much  giggling 
and  blushing  on  these  occasions  among  the 
maidens,  and  shouts  from  their  relatives  and 
friends  to  "  Haud  yer  head  up,  Jean,"  and 
"  Lat  them  see  yer  een,  Jess."  The  dominie 
enjoyed  this,  and  was  one  time  chosen  a 
judge,  when  he  insisted  on  the  prize's  being 
bestowed  on  his  own  daughter,  Marget.  The 
other  judges  demurred,  but  the  dominie  re- 
mained firm  and  won  the  day. 

"  She  wasna  the  best-faured  amon  them," 
he  admitted  afterwards,  "  but  a  man  maun 
mak  the  maist  o'  his  ain." 

The  dominie,  too,  would  not  shake  his  head 
with  Mr.  Rattray  over  the  apple  and  loaf 
bread  raffles  in  the  smithy,  nor  even  at 
the  Daft  Days,  the  black  week  of  glum 
debauch  that  ushered  in  the  year,  a  period 
when  the  whole  countryside  rumbled  to  the 
farmers  "kebec"  laden  cart. 


1 44  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

For  the  great  part  of  his  career  the  do- 
minie had  not  made  forty  pounds  a  year,  but 
he  "  died  worth  "  about  three  hundred  pounds. 
The  moral  of  his  life  came  in  just  as  he  was 
leaving  it,  for  he  rose  from  his  deathbed  to 
hide  a  whisky  bottle  from  his  wife. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CREE  QUEERY  AND  MYSY  DROLLY. 

The  children  used  to  fling  stones  at  Grinder 
Queery  because  he  loved  his  mother.  I  never 
heard  the  Grinder's  real  name.  He  and  his 
mother  were  Queery  and  Drolly,  contemp- 
tuously so  called,  and  they  answered  to  these 
names.  I  remember  Cree  best  as  a  battered 
old  weaver,  who  bent  forward  as  he  walked, 
with  his  arms  hanging  limp  as  if  ready  to 
grasp  the  shafts  of  the  barrow  behind  which 
it  was  his  life  to  totter  uphill  and  downhill, 
a  rope  of  yarn  suspended  round  his  shaking 
neck,  and  fastened  to  the  shafts,  assisting  him 
to  bear  the  yoke  and  slowly  strangling  him.  By 
and  by  there  came  a  time  when  the  barrow 
and  the  weaver  seemed  both  palsy-stricken, 
and  Cree,  gasping  for  breath,  would  stop  in 
II 


1 46  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

the  middle  of  a  brae,  unable  to  push  his  load 
over  a  stone.  Then  he  laid  himself  down  be- 
hind it  to  prevent  the  barrow's  slipping  back. 
On  those  occasions  only  the  barefooted  boys 
who  jeered  at  the  panting  weaver  could  put 
new  strength  into  his  shrivelled  arms.  They 
did  it  by  telling  him  that  he  and  i.Iysy  would 
have  to  go  to  the  "  poorshouse "  after  all,  at 
which  the  grey  old  man  would  wince,  as 
if  "joukin"  from  a  blow,  and,  shuddering, 
rise  and,  with  a  desperate  effort,  gain  the 
top  of  the  incline.  Small  blame  perhaps 
attached  to  Cree  if,  as  he  neared  his  grave, 
he  grew  a  little  dottle.  His  loads  of  yarn 
frequently  took  him  past  the  workhouse, 
and  his  eyelids  quivered  as  he  drew  near. 
Boys  used  to  gather  round  the  gate  in 
anticipation  of  his  coming,  and  make  a  feint 
of  driving  him  inside.  Cree,  when  he  ob- 
served them,  sat  down  on  his  barrow-shafts 
terrified  to  approach,  and  I  see  them  now 
pointing  to  the  workhouse  till  he  left  his 
barrow  on  the  road  and  hobbled  away,  his 
l€gs  cracking  as  he  ran. 


CREE  QUEERY  AND  AIVSV  DROLL  V.  147 

It  is  strange  to  know  that  there  was  once  a 
time  when  Cree  was  young  and  straight,  a 
callant  who  wore  a  flower  in  his  button- 
hole, and  tried  to  be  a  hero  for  a  maiden's 
sake. 

Before  Cree  settled  down  as  a  weaver,  he 
was  knife  and  scissor-grinder  for  three  coun- 
ties, and  Mysy,  his  mother,  accompanied  him 
wherever  he  went.  Mysy  trudged  alongside 
him  till  her  eyes  grew  dim  and  her  limbs  failed 
her,  and  then  Cree  was  told  that  she  must  be 
sent  to  the  pauper's  home.  After  that  a  piti- 
able and  beautiful  sight  was  to  be  seen.  Grin- 
der Queery,  already  a  feeble  man,  would  wheel 
his  grindstone  along  the  long  high  road,  leav- 
ing Mysy  behind.  He  took  the  stone  on  a 
few  hundred  yards,  and  then,  hiding  it  by  the 
roadside  in  a  ditch  or  behind  a  paling,  returned 
for  his  mother.  Her  he  led — sometimes  he 
almost  carried  her — to  the  place  where  the 
grindstone  lay,  and  thus  by  double  journeys 
kept  her  with  him.  Every  one  said  that 
Mysy's  death  would  be  a  merciful  release — 
every  one  but  Cree. 


148  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

Cree  had  been  a  grinder  from  his  youth, 
having  learned  the  trade  from  his  father,  but 
he  gave  it  up  when  Mysy  became  almost  blind. 
For  a  time  he  had  to  leave  her  in  Thrums  with 
Dan'l  Wilkie's  wife,  and  find  employment 
himself  in  Tilliedrum.  Mysy  got  me  to  write 
several  letters  for  her  to  Cree,  and  she  cried 
while  telling  me  what  to  say.  I  never  heard 
cither  of  them  use  a  term  of  endearment  to 
the  other,  but  all  IMysy  could  tell  me  to  put 
in  writing  was — "  Oh,  my  son  Cree;  oh,  my  be- 
loved son  ;  oh,  I  have  no  one  but  you ;  oh,  thou 
God  watch  over  my  Cree  ! "  On  one  of  these 
occasions  Mysy  put  into  my  hands  a  paper, 
which,  she  said,  would  perhaps  help  me  to 
write  the  letter.  It  had  been  drawn  up  by  Cree 
many  years  before,  when  he  and  his  mother 
had  been  compelled  to  part  for  a  time,  and  I 
saw  from  it  that  he  had  been  trying  to  teach 
Mysy  to  write.  The  paper  consisted  of  phrases 
such  as  "  Dear  son  Cree,"  "  Loving  mother," 
**  I  am  takin'  my  food  weel,"  "  Yesterday," 
"  Blankets,"  "  The  peats  is  near  done,"  "  Mr. 
Dishart,"  "  Come  home,  Cree."     The  Grinder 


CREE  QUEERY  AND  MYSY  DROLLY.  149 

had  left  this  paper  with  his  mother,  and  she 
had  written  letters  to  him  from  it 

When  Dan'l  Wilkie  objected  to  keeping  a 
cranky  old  body  like  Mysy  in  his  house  Cree 
came  back  to  Thrums  and  took  a  single  room 
with  a  hand-loom  in  it.  The  flooring  was 
only  lumpy  earth,  with  sacks  spread  over  it  to 
protect  Mysy's  feet.  The  room  contained  two 
dilapidated  old  coffin-beds,  a  dresser,  a  high- 
backed  arm-chair,  several  three-legged  stools, 
and  two  tables,  of  which  one  could  be  packed 
away  beneath  the  other.  In  one  corner 
stood  the  wheel  at  which  Cree  had  to  fill 
his  own  pirns.  There  was  a  plate-rack  on  one 
wall,  and  near  the  chimney-piece  hung  the 
wag-at-the-wall  clock,  the  timepiece  that  was 
commonest  in  Thrums  at  that  time,  and  that 
got  this  name  because  its  exposed  pendulum 
swung  along  the  wall.  The  two  windows  in 
the  room  faced  each  other  on  opposite  walls, 
and  were  so  small  that  even  a  child  might 
have  stuck  in  trying  to  crawl  through  them. 
They  opened  on  hinges,  like  a  door.  In  the 
wall  of  the  dark  passage  leading  from  the 


1 50  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

outer  door  into  the  room  was  a  recess  where 
a  pan  and  pitcher  of  water  always  stood 
wedded,  as  it  were,  and  a  little  hole,  known  as 
the  "bole,"  in  the  wall  opposite  the  fireplace 
contained  Cree's  library.  It  consisted  of  Bax- 
ter's "  Saints'  Rest,"  Harvey's  "  Meditations," 
the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  a  work  on  folk-lore, 
and  several  Bibles.  The  saut-backet,  or  salt- 
bucket,  stood  at  the  end  of  the  fender,  which 
was  half  of  an  old  cart-wheel.  Here  Cree  wor- 
ked, whistling  "Ower  the  watter  for  Chairlie" 
to  make  Mysy  think  that  he  was  as  gay  as  a 
mavis.  Mysy  grew  querulous  in  her  old  age, 
and  up  to  the  end  she  thought  of  poor,  done 
Cree  as  a  handsome  gallant.  Only  by  weaving 
far  on  into  the  night  could  Cree  earn  as  much 
as  six  shillings  a  week.  He  began  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  worked  until  mid- 
night by  the  light  of  his  cruizey.  The  cruizey 
was  all  the  lamp  Thrums  had  in  those  days, 
though  it  is  only  to  be  seen  in  use  now  in  a 
few  old-world  houses  in  the  glens.  It  is  an 
ungainly  thing  in  iron,  the  size  of  a  man's 
palm,  and  shaped  not  unlike  the  palm  when 


CREE  QUEERY  AND  MYSY  DROLLY.  151 

contracted,  and  deepened  to  hold  a  liquid. 
Whale-oil,  lying  open  in  the  mould,  was  used, 
and  the  wick  was  a  rash  with  the  green  skin 
peeled  off.  These  rashes  were  sold  by  herd- 
boys  at  a  halfpenny  the  bundle,  but  Cree 
gathered  his  own  wicks.  The  rashes  skin 
readily  when  you  know  how  to  do  it.  The 
iron  mould  was  placed  inside  another  of  the 
same  shape,  but  slightly  larger,  for  in  time  the 
oil  dripped  through  the  iron,  and  the  whole 
was  then  hung  by  a  cleek  or  hook  close  to 
the  person  using  it.  Even  with  three  wicks  it 
gave  but  a  stime  of  light,  and  never  allowed 
the  weaver  to  see  more  than  the  half  of  his 
loom  at  a  time.  Sometimes  Cree  used  threads 
for  wicks.  He  was  too  dull  a  man  to  have 
many  visitors,  bul  Mr.  Dishart  called  occasion- 
ally and  reproved  him  for  telling  his  mother 
lies.  The  lies  Cree  told  Mysy  were  that  he 
was  sharing  the  meals  he  won  for  her,  and 
that  he  wore  the  overcoat  which  he  had 
exchanged  years  before  for  a  blanket  to  keep 
her  warm. 

There  was  a  terrible  want  of  spirit  about 


1 52  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

Grinder  Queery.  Boys  used  to  climb  on  to 
his  stone  roof  with  clods  of  damp  earth  in  their 
hands,  which  they  dropped  down  the  chimney. 
Mysy  was  bed-ridden  by  this  time,  and  the 
smoke  threatened  to  choke  her ;  so  Cree,  in- 
stead of  chasing  his  persecutors,  bargained 
with  them.  He  gave  them  fly-hooks  which 
he  had  busked  himself,  and  when  he  had  no- 
thing left  to  give  he  tried  to  flatter  them  into 
dealing  gently  with  Mysy  by  talking  to  them 
as  men.  One  night  it  went  through  the  town 
that  Mysy  now  lay  in  bed  all  day  listening  for 
her  summons  to  depart.  According  to  her 
ideas  this  would  come  in  the  form  of  a  tapping 
at  the  window,  and  their  intention  was  to 
forestall  the  spirit  Dite  Gow's  boy,  who  is 
now  a  grown  man,  was  hoisted  up  to  one  of 
the  little  windows,  and  he  has  always  thought 
of  Mysy  since  as  he  saw  her  then  for 
the  last  time.  She  lay  sleeping,  so  far  as  he 
could  see,  and  Cree  sat  by  the  fireside  look- 
ing at  her. 

Every  one  knew  that  there  was  seldom  a 
fire  in  that  house  unless  Mvsv  was  cold.    Cree 


CREE  QUEERY  AND  MYSY  DROLLY.  153 

seemed  to  think  that  the  fire  was  getting  low. 
In  the  little  closet,  which,  with  the  kitchen, 
made  up  his  house,  was  a  corner  shut  off 
from  the  rest  of  the  room  by  a  few  boards, 
and  behind  this  he  kept  his  peats.  There  was 
a  similar  receptacle  for  potatoes  in  the  kitchen. 
Cree  wanted  to  get  another  peat  for  the  fire 
without  disturbing  Mysy.  First  he  took  off 
his  boots,  and  made  for  the  peats  on  tip-toe. 
His  shadow  was  cast  on  the  bed,  however,  so 
he  next  got  down  on  his  knees  and  crawled 
softly  into  the  closet  With  the  peat  in  his 
hands,  he  returned  in  the  same  way,  glancing 
every  moment  at  the  bed  where  Mysy  lay. 
Though  Tammy  Gow's  face  was  pressed 
against  a  broken  window  he  did  not  hear 
Cree  putting  that  peat  on  the  fire.  Some 
say  that  Mysy  heard,  but  pretended  not  to 
do  so  for  her  son's  sake,  that  she  realized 
the  deception  he  played  on  her,  and  had  not 
the  heart  to  undeceive  him.  But  it  would  be 
too  sad  to  believe  that.  The  boys  left  Cree 
alone  that  night. 

The  old   weaver  lived    on   alone   in  that 


1 54  A  ULD  LICHT  ID  \  'LLS. 

solitary  house  after  Mysy  left  him,  and  by 
and  by  the  story  went  abroad  that  he  was 
saving  money.  At  first  no  one  believed  this 
except  the  man  who  told  it,  but  there  seemed 
after  all  to  be  something  in  it.  You  had  only 
to  hit  Cree's  trouser  pocket  to  hear  the  money 
chinking,  for  he  was  afraid  to  let  it  out  of  his 
clutch.  Those  who  sat  on  dykes  with  him 
when  his  day's  labour  was  over  said  that  the 
weaver  kept  his  hand  all  the  time  in  his 
pocket,  and  that  they  saw  his  lips  move  as  he 
counted  his  hoard  by  letting  it  slip  through 
his  fingers.  So  there  were  boys  who  called 
**  Miser  Queery  "  after  him  instead  of  Grinder, 
and  asked  him  whether  he  was  saving  up  to 
keep  himself  from  the  workhouse. 

But  we  had  all  done  Cree  wrong.  It  came 
out  on  his  deathbed  what  he  had  been  storing 
up  his  money  for.  Grinder,  according  to  the 
doctor,  died  of  getting  a  good  raeal  from  a 
friend  of  his  earlier  days  after  being  accus- 
tomed to  starve  on  potatoes  and  a  very  little 
oatmeal  indeed.  The  day  before  he  died 
this   friend  sent  him   half  a   sovereign,   and 


CREE  QUEERY  AND  MYSY  DROLLY.  155 

when  Grinder  saw  it  he  sat  up  excitedly  in 
his  bed  and  pulled  his  corduroys  from  beneath 
his  pillow.  The  woman  who,  out  of  kindness, 
attended  him  in  his  last  illness,  looked  on 
curiously,  while  Cree  added  the  sixpences 
and  coppers  in  his  pocket  to  the  half-sovereign. 
After  all  they  only  made  some  two  pounds, 
but  a  look  of  peace  came  into  Cree's  eyes  as 
he  told  the  woman  to  take  it  all  to  a  shop  in 
the  town.  Nearly  twelve  years  previously 
Jamie  Lownie  had  lent  him  two  pounds,  and 
though  the  money  was  never  asked  for,  it 
preyed  on  Cree's  mind  that  he  was  in  debt. 
He  payed  off  all  he  owed,  and  so  Cree's  life 
was  not,  I  think,  a  failure. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAD'S  BELL. 

For  two  years  it  had  been  notorious  in  the 
square  that  Sam'l  Dickie  was  thinking  of 
courting  T'nowhead's  Bell,  and  that  if  little 
Sanders  Elshioner  (which  is  the  Thrums  pro- 
nunciation of  Alexander  Alexander)  went  in 
for  her  he  might  prove  a  formidable  rival. 
Sam'l  was  a  weaver  in  the  Tenements,  and 
Sanders  a  coal-carter  whose  trade  mark  was 
a  bell  on  his  horse's  neck  that  told  when  coals 
were  coming.  Being  something  of  a  public 
man,  Sanders  had  not  perhaps  so  high  a  social 
position  as  Sam'l,  but  he  had  succeeded  his 
father  on  the  coal-cart,  while  the  weaver  had 
already  tried  several  trades.  It  had  always 
been  against  Sam'l,  too,  that  once  when  the 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAUS BELL,  is? 

kirk  was  vacant  he  had  advised  the  selection 
of  the  third  minister  who  preached  for  it  on 
the  ground  that  it  came  expensive  to  pay  a 
large  number  of  candidates.  The  scandal  of 
the  thing  was  hushed  up,  out  of  respect  for  his 
father,  who  was  a  God-fearing  man,  but  Sam'l 
was  known  by  it  in  Lang  Tammas's  circle. 
The  coal-carter  was  called  Little  Sanders  to 
distinguish  him  from  his  father,  who  was  not 
much  more  than  half  his  size.  He  had  grown 
up  with  the  name,  and  its  inapplicability  now 
came  home  to  nobody.  SamTs  mother  had 
been  more  far-seeing  than  Sanders's.  Her 
man  had  been  called  Sammy  all  his  life 
because  it  was  the  name  he  got  as  a  boy,  so 
when  their  eldest  son  was  born  she  spoke  of 
him  as  Sam'l  while  still  in  his  cradle.  The 
neighbours  imitated  her,  and  thus  the  young 
man  had  a  better  start  in  life  than  had  been 
granted  to  Sammy,  his  father. 

It  was  Saturday  evening — the  night  in  the 
week  when  Auld  Licht  young  men  fell  in 
love.  Sam'l  Dickie,  wearing  a  blue  glengarry 
bonnet  with  a  red  ball  on  the  top,  came  to 


158  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

tliC  door  of  a  one-storey  house  in  the  Tene- 
ments and  stood  there  wriggling,  for  he  was 
in  a  suit  of  tweed  for  .the  first  time  that  week, 
and  did  not  feel  at  one  with  them.  When  his 
fecHng  of  being  a  stranger  to  himself  wore  off 
he  looked  up  and  down  the  road,  which  strag- 
gles between  houses  and  gardens,  and  then, 
picking  his  way  over  the  puddles,  crossed  to 
his  father's  hen-house  and  sat  down  on  it 
He  was  now  on  his  way  to  the  square. 

Eppie  Fargus  was  sitting  on  an  adjoining 
dyke  knitting  stockings,  and  Sam'l  looked  at 
her  for  a  time. 

"  Is't  yersel,  Eppie  ?  "  he  said  at  last. 

••  It's  a'  that,"  said  Eppie. 

"  Hoo's  a'  wi'  ye  ?  "  asked  Sam'l. 

"  We're  juist  aff  an'  on,"  replied  Eppie, 
cautiously. 

There  was  not  much  more  to  say,  but  as 
Sam'l  sidled  off  the  henhouse  he  murmured 
politely,  "  Ay,  ay."  In  another  minute  he 
would  have  been  fairly  started,  but  Eppie 
resumed  the  conversation. 

"  Sam'l,"  she  said,  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eye, 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAD'S  BELL.  159 

*'ye  can  tell  Lisbeth  Fargus  I'll  likely  be 
drappin'  in  on  her  aboot  Mununday  or  Teis- 
day." 

Lisbeth  was  sister  to  Eppie,  and  wife  of 
Tammas  McQuhatty,  better  known  as  T'now- 
head,  which  was  the  name  of  his  farm.  She 
was  thus  Bell's  mistress. 

Sam'l  leant  against  the  henhouse  as  if  all 
his  desire  to  depart  had  gone, 

*'  Hoo  d'ye  kin  I'll  be  at  the  T'nowhead  the 
nicht  ?  "  he  asked,  grinning  in  anticipation. 

"  Ou,  I'se  warrant  ye'll  be  after  Bell,"  said 
Eppie. 

"  Am  no  sae  sure  o'  that,"  said  Sam'l, 
trying  to  leer.     He  was  enjoying  himself  now. 

"Am  no  sure  o'  that,"  he  repeated,  for 
Eppie  seemed  lost  in  stitches, 

«  Sam'l  ?  " 

«  Ay." 

"Ye'll  be  spelrin'  her  sune  noo,  I  dinna 
doot?" 

This  took  Sam'l,  who  had  only  been  courting 
Bell  for  a  year  or  two,  a  little  aback. 
/  "  Hoo  d'ye  mean,  Eppie  ?  "  he  asked. 


i6o  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

"  Maybe  ye'll  do't  the  nicht." 

"  Na,  there's  nae  hurry,"  said  Sam'L 

"  Weel,  we're  a'  coontin'  on't,  Sam'!." 

"  Gae  wa  wi'  ye." 

"  What  for  no  ?  " 

**  Gae  wa  wi'  ye,"  said  Sam'l  again. 

«  Bell's  gei  an'  fond  o'  ye,  Sam'l." 

"  Ay,"  said  Sam'l. 

*•  But  am  dootin'  ye're  a  fell  billy  wi'  the 
lasses." 

"Ay,  oh,  Id'na  kin,  moderate,  moderate," 
said  Sam'l,  in  high  delight. 

**  I  saw  ye,"  said  Eppie,  speaking  with  a  wire 
in  her  mouth,  "  gae'in  on  terr'ble  wi'  Mysy 
Haggart  at  the  pump  last  Saturday." 

"  We  was  juist  amoosin'  oorsels,"  said  Sam'l. 

*'  It'll  be  nae  amoosement  to  Mysy,"  said 
Eppie,  "  gin  ye  brak  her  heart" 

"  Losh,  Eppie,"  said  Sam'l,  "  I  didna  think 
o'  that." 

**  Ye  maun  kin  weel,  Sam'l,  'at  there's  mony 
a  lass  wid  jump  at  ye." 

"  Ou,  weel,"  said  Sam'l,  implying  that  a  man 
must  take  these  things  as  they  come. 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAUS  BELL.  i6i 

"For  ye're  a  dainty  chield  to  look  at, 
Sam'l." 

"  Do  ye  think  so,  Eppie  ?  Ay,  ay  ;  oh,  I  d'na 
kin  am  onything  by  the  ordinar." 

"Ye  mayna  be,"  said  Eppie,  "but  lasses 
doesna  do  to  be  ower  partikler." 

Sam'l  resented  this,  and  prepared  to  depart 
again. 

"Ye'll  no  tell  Bell  that?"  he  asked, 
anxiously. 

"Tell  her  what?" 

''  Aboot  me  an'  Mysy." 

"  We'll  see   hoo  ye  behave  yersel,  Sam*!.** 

"  No  'at  I  care,  Eppie  ;  ye  can  tell  her  gin 
ye  like.  I  widna  think  twice  o'  tellin  her 
mysel." 

"  The  Lord  forgie  ye  for  leein',  Sam'l,"  said 
Eppie,  as  he  disappeared  down  Tammy 
Tosh's  close.  Here  he  came  upon  Renders 
Webster. 

"Ye're  late,  Sam'l,"  said  Renders. 

"What  for?" 

"Ou,  I  was  thinkin'  ye  wid  be  gaen  the 
length  o'    T'nowhead   the  nicht,   an'  I  saw 

12 


r62  AULD  LICHT  IDYLLS. 

Sanders  Elshioner  makkin's  \iy  there  an  oor 
syne." 

"  Did  ye  ? "  cried  Sam'l,  adding  craftily, 
"but  it's  naething  to  me." 

"  Tod,  lad,"  said  Hendcrs,  "  gin  ye  dinna 
buckle  to,  Sanders'll  be  carryin'  her  off." 

Sam'l  flung  back  his  head  and  passed  on. 

"  Sam'l !  "  cried  Renders  after  him. 

"Ay,"  said  Sam'l,  wheeling  round. 

"  Gie  Bell  a  kiss  frae  me." 

The  full  force  of  this  joke  struck  neither  all 
at  once.  Sam'l  began  to  smile  at  it  as  he 
turned  down  the  school-wynd,  and  it  came 
upon  Renders  while  he  was  in  his  garden 
feeding  his  ferret.  Then  he  slapped  his  legs 
gleefully,  and  explained  the  conceit  to  Will'um 
Byars,  who  went  into  the  house  and  thought 
it  over. 

There  were  twelve  or  twenty  little  groups 
of  men  in  the  square,  which  was  lit  by  a  flare 
of  oil  suspended  over  a  cadger's  cart.  Now 
and  again  a  staid  young  woman  passed  through 
the  square  with  a  basket  on  her  arm,  and  if  she 
had  lingered  long  enough  to  give  them  time, 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAD'S  BELL.  163 

some  of  the  idlers  would  have  addressed  her. 
As  it  was,  they  gazed  after  her,  and  then 
grinned  to  each  other. 

"  Ay,  Sam'l,"  said  two  or  three  young  men, 
as  Sam'l  joined  them  beneath  the  town  clock. 

"  Ay,  Davit,"  replied  Sam'l. 

This  group  was  composed  of  some  of  the 
sharpest  wits  in  Thrums,  and  it  was  not  to  be 
expected  that  they  would  let  this  opportunity 
pass.  Perhaps  when  Sam'l  joined  them  he 
knew  what  was  in  store  for  him. 

"  Was  ye  lookin'  for  T'nowhead's  Bell, 
Sam'l  t  "  asked  one. 

"  Or  mebbe  ye  was  wantin'  the  minister  }  " 
suggested  another,  the  same  who  had  walked 
out  twice  with  Chirsty  Duff  and  not  married 
her  after  all. 

Sam'l  could  not  think  of  a  good  reply  at  the 
moment,  so  he  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"  Ondoobtedly  she's  a  snod  bit  crittur,"  said 
Davit,  archly. 

"  An'  michty  clever  wi'  her  fingers,"  added 
Jamie  Deuchars. 

*  Man,  I've  thocht  o*  makkin'  up  to  Bell 


i64  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

mysel,"  said  Pete  Ogle.  "  Wid  there  be  ony 
chance,  think  ye,  Sam'l  ?  " 

"I'm  thinkin'  she  widna  hae  ye  for  her  first, 
Pete,"  replied  Sam'l,  in  one  of  those  happy 
flashes  that  come  to  some  men,  "  but  there's 
nae  sayin'  but  what  she  micht  tak  ye  to  finish 
up  wi'." 

The  unexpectedness  of  this  sally  startled 
every  one.  Though  Sam'l  did  not  set  up  for 
a  wit,  however,  like  Davit,  it  was  notorious 
that  he  could  say  a  cutting  thing  once  in  a  way. 

"  Did  ye  ever  see  Bell  reddin  up  ?  "  asked 
Pete,  recovering  from  his  overthrow.  He  was 
a  man  who  bore  no  malice. 

"  It's  a  sicht,"  said  Sam'l,  solemnly. 

"  Hoo  will  that  be?"  asked  Jamie  Deu- 
chars. 

"  It's  weel  worth  yer  while,"  said  Pete,  "  to 
ging  atower  to  the  T'nowhead  an'  see.  Ye'll 
mind  the  closed-in  beds  i'  the  kitchen  }  Ay, 
weel,  they're  a  fell  spoilt  crew,  T'nowhead's 
litlins,  an'  no  that  aisy  to  manage.  Th'  ither 
lasses  Lisbcth's  hae'n  had  a  michty  trouble 
wi*  them.     When  they  war  i'  the   middle  o' 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAD'S  BELL,  165 

their  reddin  up  the  bairns  wid  come  tumlin' 
about  the  floor,  but,  sal,  I  assure  ye,  Bell 
didna  fash  lang  wi'  them.     Did  she,  Sam'l  ?  " 

"  She  did  not,"  said  Sam'l,  dropping  into  a 
fine  mode  of  speech  to  add  emphasis  to  his 
remark. 

"  I'll  tell  ye  what  she  did,"  said  Pete  to  the 
others.  "She  juist  lifted  up  the  litlins,  twa  at 
a  time,  an'  flung  them  into  the  coffin-beds. 
Syne  she  snibbit  the  doors  on  them,  an' 
keepit  them  there  till  the  floor  was  dry." 

"  Ay,  man,  did  she  so  ? "  said  Davit,  ad- 
miringly. 

*'  I've  seen  her  do't  mysel,"  said  Sam'l. 
,    "  There's  no  a  lassie  maks  better  bannocks 
this  side  o'  Fetter  Lums,'  continued  Pete. 

"  Her  mither  tocht  her  that,"  said  Sam'l ; 
"she  was  a  gran'  han'  at  the  bakin',  Kitty 
Ogilvy." 

"  I've  heard  say,"  remarked  Jamie,  putting 
it  this  way  so  as  not  to  tie  himself  down  to 
anything,  "  'at  Bell's  scones  is  equal  to  Mag 
Lunan's." 

"  So  they  are,"  said  Sam'l,  almost  fiercely 


i66  A  ULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

"  I  kin  she's  a  neat  han'  at  singein'  a  hen," 
said  Pete. 

"An'  wi't  a',"  said  Davit,  "she's  a  snod, 
canty  bit  stocky  in  her  Sabbath  claes." 

"  If  onything,  thick  in  the  waist,"  suggested 
Jamie. 

"I  dinna  see  that,"  said  Sam'l. 

"  I  d'na  care  for  her  hair  either,"  continued 
Jamie,  who  was  very  nice  in  his  tastes  ;  some- 
thing mair  yallowchy  wid  be  an  improve- 
ment." 

"  A'body  kins,"  growled  Sam'l,  "  'at  black 
hair's  the  bonniest." 

The  others  chuckled. 

"  Puir  Sam'l  !  "    Pete  said. 

Sam'l  not  being  certain  whether  this 
should  be  received  with  a  smile  or  a  frown, 
opened  his  mouth  wide  as  a  kind  of  com- 
promise. This  vv^as  position  one  with  him  for 
thinking  things  over. 

Few  Auld  Lichts,  as  I  have  said,  went 
the  length  of  choosing  a  helpmate  for  them- 
selves. One  day  a  young  man's  friends 
would    see   him    mending    the    washing   tub 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAD'S  BELL.  167 

of  a  maiden's  mother.  They  kept  the  joke 
until  Saturday  night,  and  then  he  learned  from 
them  what  he  had  been  after.  It  dazed  him 
for  a  time,  but  in  a  year  or  so  he  grew  ac- 
customed to  the  idea,  and  they  were  then 
married.  With  a  little  help  he  fell  in  love 
just  like  other  people. 

Sam'l  was  going  the  way  of  the  others,  but 
he  found  it  difficult  to  come  to  the  point.  He 
only  went  courting  once  a  week,  and  he  could 
never  take  up  the  running  at  the  place  where 
he  left  off  the  Saturday  before.  Thus  he  had 
not,  so  far,  made  great  headway.  His  method 
of  making  up  to  Bell  had  been  to  drop  in  at 
T'nowhead  on  Saturday  nights  and  talk  with 
the  farmer  about  the  rinderpest 

The  farm  kitchen  was  Bell's  testimonial. 
Its  chairs,  tables,  and  stools  were  scoured  by 
her  to  the  whiteness  of  Rob  Angus's  sawmill 
boards,  and  the  muslin  blind  on  the  window 
was  starched  like  a  child's  pinafore.  Bell  was 
brave,  too,  as  well  as  energetic.  Once  Thrums 
had  been  overrun  with  thieves.  It  is  now 
thought  that  there  may  have  been  only  one, 


i68  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

but  he  had  the  wicked  cleverness  of  a  gang. 
Such  was  his  repute  that  there  were  weavers 
who  spoke  of  locking  their  doors  when  they 
went  from  home.  He  was  not  very  skilful, 
however,  being  generally  caught,  and  when 
they  said  they  knew  he  was  a  robber  he  gave 
them  their  things  back  and  went  away.  If 
they  had  given  him  time  there  is  no  doubt 
that  he  would  have  gone  off  with  his  plunder. 
One  night  he  went  to  T'nowhead,  and  Bell, 
who  slept  in  the  kitchen,  was  wakened  by  the 
noise.  She  knew  who  it  would  be,  so  she 
rose  and  dressed  herself,  and  went  to  look  for 
him  with  a  candle.  The  thief  had  not  known 
what  to  do  when  he  got  in,  and  as  it  was  very 
lonely  he  was  glad  to  see  Bell.  She  told  him 
he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself,  and  would 
not  let  him  out  by  the  door  until  he  had  taken 
off  his  boots  so  as  not  to  soil  the  carpet 

On  this  Saturday  evening  Sam'l  stood  his 
ground  in  the  square,  until  by  and  by  he 
found  himself  alone.  There  were  other 
groups  there  still,  but  his  circle  had  melted 
away.    They  went  separately,  and  no  one  said 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEADS  BELL.  169 

good-night.  Each  took  himself  off  slowly, 
backing  out  of  the  group  until  he  was  fairly- 
started. 

Sam'l  looked  about  him,  and  then,  seeing 
that  the  others  had  gone,  walked  round  the 
townhouse  into  the  darkness  of  the  brae  that 
leads  down  and  then  up  to  the  farm  of 
T'nowhead. 

To  get  into  the  good  graces  of  Lisbeth 
Fargus  you  had  to  know  her  ways  and  humour 
them.  Sam'l,  who  was  a  student  of  women, 
knew  this,  and  so,  instead  of  pushing  the  door 
open  and  walking  ui,he  went  through  the  rather 
ridiculous  ceremony  of  knocking.  Sanders 
Elshioner  was  also  aware  of  this  weakness  of 
Lisbeth's,  but,  though  he  often  made  up  his 
mind  to  knock,  the  absurdity  of  the  thing 
prevented  his  doing  so  when  he  reached  the 
door.  T'nowhead  himself  had  never  got 
used  to  his  wife's  refined  notions,  and  when 
any  one  knocked  he  always  started  to  his 
feet,  thinking  there  must  be  something  wrong. 

Lisbeth  came  to  the  door,  her  expansive 
figure  blocking  the  way  in. 


170  A  ULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS, 

"  Sam'l,"  she  said. 

«  Lisbeth,"  said  Sam'l. 

He  shook  hands  with  the  farmer's  wife, 
knowing  that  she  liked  it,  but  only  said,  "  Ay, 
Bell,"  to  his  sweetheart,  "  Ay,  T'nowhead,"  to 
McQuhatty,  and  "  It's  yersel,  Sanders,"  to  his 
rival. 

They  were  all  sitting  round  the  fire,  T'now- 
head, with  his  feet  on  the  ribs,  wondering  why 
he  felt  so  warm,  and  Bell  darned  a  stocking, 
while  Lisbeth  kept  an  eye  on  a  goblet  full  of 
potatoes. 

"  Sit  into  the  fire,  Sam'l,"  said  the  farmer, 
not,  however,  making  way  for  him. 

"  Na,  na,"  said  Sam'l,  "  I'm  to  bide  nae 
time."  Then  he  sat  into  the  fire.  His  face 
was  turned  away  from  Bell,  and  when  she 
spoke  he  answered  her  without  looking  round. 
Sam'l  felt  a  little  anxious.  Sanders  Elshioner, 
who  had  one  leg  shorter  than  the  other,  but 
looked  well  when  sitting,  seemed  suspiciously 
at  home.  He  asked  Bell  questions  out  of  his 
own  head,  which  was  beyond  Sam'l,  and  once 
he  said  something:  to  her  in  such  a  low  voice 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAD'S  BELL.  \^\ 

that  the  others  could  not  catch  it.  T'nowhead 
asked  curiously  what  it  was,  and  Sanders 
explained  that  he  had  only  said,  "  Ay,  Bell, 
the  morn's  the  Sabbath."  There  was  nothing 
startling  in  this,  but  Sam'I  did  not  like  it  He 
began  to  wonder  if  he  was  too  late,  and  had 
he  seen  his  opportunity  would  have  told  Bell 
of  a  nasty  rumour  that  Sanders  intended  to 
go  over  to  the  Free  Church  if  they  would 
make  him  kirk-officer. 

Sam'I  had  the  good-will  of  T'nowhead's 
wife,  who  liked  a  polite  man.  Sanders  did 
his  best,  but  from  want  of  practice  he  con- 
stantly made  mistakes.  To-night,  for  instance, 
he  wore  his  hat  in  the  house  because  he  did 
not  like  to  put  up  his  hand  and  take  it  off. 
T'nowhead  had  not  taken  his  off  either,  but 
that  was  because  he  meant  to  go  out  by  and 
by  and  lock  the  byre  door.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  say  which  of  her  lovers  Bell  preferred. 
The  proper  course  with  an  Auld  Licht  lassie 
was  to  prefer  the  man  who  proposed  to  her. 

"  Ye'll  bide  a  wee,  an'  hae  something  to 
eat }  "  Lisbeth  asked  Sam'I,  with  her  eyes  on 
the  goblet. 


172  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

"  No,  I  thank  ye,"  said  Sam'i,  with  true 
genteelity. 

"  Ye'll  better  ? " 

"  I  dinna  think  it." 

"  Hoots  aye  ;  what's  to  hender  ye  ?  ** 

"Weel,  since  ye're  sae  pressin',  I'll  bide." 

No  one  asked  Sanders  to  stay.  Bell  could 
not,  for  she  was  but  the  servant,  and  T'now- 
head  knew  that  the  kick  his  wife  had  given 
him  meant  that  he  was  not  to  do  so  either. 
Sanders  whistled  to  show  that  he  was  not  un- 
comfortable. 

"  Ay,  then,  I'll  be  stappin'  ewer  the  brae," 
he  said  at  last 

He  did  not  go,  however.  There  was  suffi- 
cient pride  in  him  to  get  him  off  his  chair, 
but  only  slowly,  for  he  had  to  get  accustomed 
to  the  notion  of  going.  At  intervals  of  two  or 
three  minutes  he  remarked  that  he  must  now 
be  going.  In  the  same  circumstances  Sam'I 
would  have  acted  similarly.  For  a  Thrums 
man  it  is  one  of  the  hardest  things  in  life  to 
get  away  from  anywhere. 

At  last  Lisbeth  saw  that  something  must 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAD'S  BELL.  173 

be  done.  The  potatoes  were  burning,  and 
T'nowhead  had  an  invitation  on  his  tongue. 

"  Yes,  I'll  hae  to  be  movin',"  said  Sanders, 
hopelessly,  for  the  fifth  time. 

"  Guid  nicht  to  ye,  then,  Sanders,"  said 
Lisbeth.     "  Gie  the  door  a  fling-to,  ahent  ye." 

Sanders,  with  a  mighty  effort,  pulled  him- 
self together.  He  looked  boldly  at  Bell,  and 
then  took  off  his  hat  carefully.  Sam'l  saw 
with  misgivings  that  there  was  something  in 
it  which  was  not  a  handkerchief  It  was  a 
paper  bag  glittering  with  gold  braid,  and  con- 
tained such  an  assortment  of  sweets  as  lads 
bought  for  their  lasses  on  the  Muckle  Friday. 

"  Hae,  Bell,"  said  Sanders,  handing  the  bag 
to  Bell  in  an  off-hand  way  as  if  it  were  but  a 
trifle.  Nevertheless  he  was  a  little  excited, 
for  he  went  off  without  saying  good-night. 

No  one  spoke.  Bell's  face  was  crimson. 
T'nowhead  fidgetted  on  his  chair,  and  Lis- 
beth looked  at  Sam'l.  The  weaver  was 
strangely  calm  and  collected,  though  he  would 
have  liked  to  know  whether  this  was  a  pro- 
posal. 


1 74  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

"  Sit  in  by  to  the  table,  Sam'l,"  said  Lisbeth, 
tr}'ing  to  look  as  if  things  were  as  they  had 
been  before. 

She  put  a  saucerful  of  butter,  salt,  and 
pepper  near  the  fire  to  melt,  for  melted  butter 
is  the  shoeing-horn  that  helps  over  a  meal 
of  potatoes.  Sam'l,  however,  saw  what  the 
hour  required,  and  jumping  up,  he  seized  his 
bonnet 

**  Hing  the  tatties  higher  up  the  joist,  Lis- 
beth,"  he  said  with  dignity ;  "  I'se  be  back  in 
ten  meenits." 

He  hurried  out  of  the  house,  leaving  the 
others  looking  at  each  other. 

"  What  do  ye  think? "  asked  Lisbeth. 

"I  d'nakin,"  faltered  Bell. 

**  Thae  tatties  is  lang  o*  comin'  to  the  boil," 
said  T'nowhead. 

In  some  circles  a  lover  who  behaved  like 
Sam'l  would  have  been  suspected  of  intent 
upon  his  rivals  life,  but  neither  Bell  nor  Lis- 
beth did  the  weaver  that  injustice.  In  a  case 
of  this  kind  it  does  not  much  matter  what 
T'nowhead  thought. 


COURTING  OF  TNOWHEAUS  BELL.   175 

The  ten  minutes  had  barely  passed  when 
Sam'l  was  back  in  the  farm  kitchen.  He  was 
too  flurried  to  knock  this  time,  and,  indeed, 
Lisbeth  did  not  expect  it  of  him. 

"  Bell,  hae  !  "  he  cried,  handing  his  sweet- 
heart a  tinsel  bag  twice  the  size  of  Sanders's  gift. 

"  Losh  preserve's  ! "  exclaimed  Lisbeth  ; 
"  I'se  warrant  there's  a  shillin's  worth." 

"  There's  a'  that,  Lisbeth — an'  mair,"  said 
Sam'l,  firmly. 

"  I  thank  ye,  Sam'l,"  said  Bell,  feeling  an 
unwonted  elation  as  she  gazed  at  the  two 
paper  bags  in  her  lap. 

"Ye're  ower  extravegint,  Sam'l,"  Lisbeth 
said. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Sam'l ;  "  not  at  all.  But 
I  widna  advise  ye  to  eat  thae  ither  anes,  Bell 
— they're  second  quality." 

Bell  drew  back  a  step  from  Sam'l. 

"  How  do  ye  kin  ? "  asked  the  farmer 
shortly,  for  he  liked  Sanders. 

"  I  spiered  i'  the  shop,"  said  Sam'l. 

The  goblet  was  placed  on  a  broken  plate 
on  the  table  with  the  saucer  beside  it,  and 


176  A  ULD  LICH  T  IDYLLS. 

Sam'l,  like  the  others,  helped  himself.  What 
he  did  was  to  take  potatoes  from  the  pot  with 
his  fingers,  peel  off  their  coats,  and  then  dip 
them  into  the  butter.  Lisbeth  would  have 
liked  to  provide  knives  and  forks,  but  she 
knew  that  beyond  a  certain  point  T'nowhead 
was  master  in  his  own  house.  As  for  Sam'l, 
he  felt  victory  in  his  hands,  and  began  to 
think  that  he  had  gone  too  far. 

In  the  meantime  Sanders,  little  witting  that 
Sam'l  had  trumped  his  trick,  was  sauntering 
along  the  kirk-wynd  with  his  hat  on  the  side 
of  his  head.  Fortunately  he  did  not  meet  the 
minister. 

The  courting  of  T'nowhead's  Bell  reached 
its  crisis  one  Sabbath  about  a  month  after 
the  events  above  recorded.  The  minister  was 
in  great  force  that  day,  but  it  is  no  part  of 
mine  to  tell  how  he  bore  himself.  I  was 
there,  and  am  not  likely  to  forget  the  scene. 
It  was  a  fateful  Sabbath  for  T'nowhead's 
Bell  and  her  swains,  and  destined  to  be 
remembered  for  the  painful  scandal  which 
they  perpetrated  in  their  passion. 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAUS  BELL.  177 

Bell  was  not  in  the  kirk.  There  being  an 
infant  of  six  months  in  the  house  it  was  a 
question  of  either  Lisbeth  or  the  lassie's 
staying  at  home  with  him,  and  though  Lisbeth 
was  unselfish  in  a  general  way,  she  could  not 
resist  the  delight  of  going  to  church.  She 
had  nine  children  besides  the  baby,  and  being 
but  a  woman,  it  was  the  pride  of  her  life  to 
march  them  into  the  T'nowhead  pew,  so  well 
watched  that  they  dared  not  misbehave,  and 
so  tightly  packed  that  they  could  not  fall. 
The  congregation  looked  at  that  pew,  the 
mothers  enviously,  when  they  sang  the  lines — 

"Jerusalem  like  a  city  is 
Compactly  built  together." 

The  first  half  of  the  service  had  been  gone 
through  on  this  particular  Sunday  without 
anything  remarkable  happening.  It  was  at 
the  end  of  the  psalm  which  preceded  the 
sermon  that  Sanders  Elshioner,  who  sat  near 
the  door,  lowered  his  head  until  it  was  no 
higher  than  the  pews,  and  in  that  attitude, 
looking  almost  like  a  four-footed  animal, 
slipped  out  of  the  church.  In  their  eagerness 
13 


178  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

to  be  at  the  sermon  many  of  the  congrega- 
tion did  not  notice  him,  and  those  who  did 
put  the  matter  by  in  their  rainds  for  future 
investigation.  Sam'l,  however,  could  not  take 
it  so  coolly.  From  his  seat  in  the  gallery  he 
saw  Sanders  disappear,  and  his  mind  misgave 
him.  With  the  true  lover's  instinct  he  under- 
stood it  all.  Sanders  had  been  struck  by  the 
fine  turn-out  in  the  T'nowhead  pew.  Bell  was 
alone  at  the  farm.  What  an  opportunity  to 
work  one's  way  up  to  a  proposal.  T'nowhead 
was  so  overrun  with  children  that  such  a 
chance  seldom  occurred,  except  on  a  Sabbath. 
Sanders,  doubtless,  was  off  to  propose,  and  he, 
Sam'l,  was  left  behind. 

The  suspense  was  terrible.  Sam'l  and 
Sanders  had  both  known  all  along  that  Bell 
would  take  the  first  of  the  two  who  asked 
her.  Even  those  who  thought  her  proud 
admitted  that  she  was  modest.  Bitterly  the 
weaver  repented  having  waited  so  long.  Now 
it  was  too  late.  In  ten  minutes  Sanders 
would  be  at  T'nowhead  ;  in  an  hour  all  would 
be  over.     Sam'l  rose  to   his   feet  in  a  daze. 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAUS  BELL.  179 

His  mother  pulled  him  down  by  the  coat-tail, 
and  his  father  shook  him,  thinking  he  was 
walking  in  his  sleep.  He  tottered  past  them, 
however,  hurried  up  the  aisle,  which  was  so 
narrow  that  Dan'l  Ross  could  only  reach 
his  seat  by  walking  sideways,  and  was  gone 
before  the  minister  could  do  more  than  stop 
In  the  middle  of  a  whirl  and  gape  in  horror 
after  him. 

A  number  of  the  congregation  felt  that  day 
the  advantage  of  sitting  in  the  laft.  What 
was  a  mystery  to  those  downstairs  was 
revealed  to  them.  From  the  gallery  windows 
they  had  a  fine  open  view  to  the  south  ;  and 
as  Sam'l  took  the  common,  which  was  a 
short  cut  though  a  steep  ascent,  to  T'now- 
head,  he  was  never  out  of  their  line  of  vision, 
Sanders  was  not  to  be  seen,  but  they  guessed 
rightly  the  reason  why.  Thinking  he  had 
ample  time,  he  had  gone  round  by  the  main 
road  to  save  his  boots — perhaps  a  little  scared 
by  what  was  coming.  Sam'l's  design  was  to 
forestall  him  by  taking  the  shorter  path  over 
the  burn  and  up  the  commonty. 


i8o  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

It  was  a  race  for  a  wife,  and  several  on- 
lookers in  the  gallery  braved  the  minister's 
displeasure  to  see  who  won.  Those  who 
favoured  Sam'l's  suit  exultingly  saw  him  leap 
the  stream,  while  the  friends  of  Sanders  fixed 
their  eyes  on  the  top  of  the  common  where 
it  ran  into  the  road.  Sanders  must  come  into 
sight  there,  and  the  one  who  reached  this 
point  first  would  get  Bell. 

As  Auld  Lichts  do  not  walk  abroad  on  the 
Sabbath,  Sanders  would  probably  not  be  de- 
layed. The  chances  were  in  his  favour.  Had 
it  been  any  other  day  in  the  week  Sam'l 
might  have  run.  So  some  of  the  congrega- 
tion in  the  gallery  were  thinking,  when  sud- 
denly they  saw  him  bend  Uvv  and  then  take 
to  his  heels.  He  had  caught  sight  of  San- 
ders's head  bobbing  over  the  hedge  that 
separated  the  road  from  the  common,  and 
feared  that  Sanders  might  see  him.  The  con- 
gregation who  could  crane  their  necks  suf- 
ficiently saw  a  black  object,  which  they 
guessed  to  be  the  carter's  hat,  crawling  along 
the  hedge-top.    For  a  moment  it  was  motion- 


COURTING  OF  TNOWHEAUS  BELL.  i8i 

tess,  and  then  it  shot  ahead.  The  rivals  had 
seen  each  other.  It  was  now  a  hot  race. 
Sam'l,  dissembling  no  longer,  clattered  up  the 
common,  becoming  smaller  and  smaller  to 
the  onlookers  as  he  neared  the  top.  More 
than  one  person  in  the  gallery  almost  rose  to 
their  feet  in  their  excitement.  Sam'l  had  it. 
No,  Sanders  was  in  front.  Then  the  two 
figures  disappeared  from  view.  They  seemed 
to  run  into  each  other  at  the  top  of  the  brae, 
and  no  one  could  say  who  was  first.  The 
congregation  looked  at  one  another.  Some 
of  them  perspired.  But  the  minister  held  on 
his  course. 

Sam'l  had  just  been  in  time  to  cut  Sanders 
out.  It  was  the  weaver's  saving  that  Sanders 
saw  this  when  his  rival  turned  the  corner  ;  for 
Sam'l  was  sadly  blown.  Sanders  took  in  the 
situation  and  gave  in  at  once.  The  last 
hundred  yards  of  the  distance  he  covered  at 
his  leisure,  and  when  he  arrived  at  his  destina- 
tion he  did  not  go  in.  It  was  a  fine  after- 
noon for  the  time  of  year,  and  he  went 
round    to    have   a    look   at    the   pig,   about 


1 82  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

which  T'nowhead  was  a  little  sinfully  puffed 
up. 

"Ay,"  said  Sanders,  digging  his  fingers 
critically  into  the  grunting  animal ;  "quite  so." 

"  Grumph,"  said  the  pig,  getting  reluctantly 
to  his  feet. 

"  Ou  ay  ;  yes,"  said  Sanders,  thoughtfully. 

Then  he  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  sty, 
and  looked  long  and  silently  at  an  empty 
bucket.  But  whether  his  thoughts  were  of 
T'nowhead's  Bell,  whom  he  had  lost  for  ever, 
or  of  the  food  the  farmer  fed  his  pig  on,  is 
not  known. 

"  Lord  preserve's !  Are  ye  no  at  the 
kirk  }  "  cried  Bell,  nearly  dropping  the  baby 
as  Sam'l  broke  into  the  room. 

"  Bell !  "  cried  Sam'l. 

Then  T'nowhead's  Bell  knew  that  her  hour 
had  come. 

"  Sam'l,"  she  faltered. 

"Will  ye  hae's  Bell?"  demanded  Sam'l, 
glaring  at  her  sheepishly. 

"  Ay,"  answered  Bell. 

Sam'l  fell  into  a  chair. 


COURTING  OF  T\NOWHEAD'S  BELL.  183 

"  Bring's  a  drink  o'  water  Bell,"  he  said. 

But  Bell  thought  the  occasion  required 
milk,  and  there  was  none  in  the  kitchen. 
She  wertt  out  to  the  byre,  still  with  the  baby 
in  her  arms,  and  saw  Sanders  Elshioner 
sitting  gloomily  on  the  pigstye. 

"  Weel,  Bell,"  said  Sanders. 

*  I  thocht  ye'd  been  at  the  kirk,  Sanders," 
said  Bell. 

Then  there  was  a  silence  between  them. 

"  Has  Sam'l  spiered  ye,  Bell  ? "  asked 
Sanders,  stolidly. 

"  Ay,"  said  Bell  again,  and  this  time  there 
was  a  tear  in  her  eye.  Sanders  was  little 
better  than  an  "  orra  man,"  and  Sam'l  was  a 

weaver,  and  yet But  it  was  too  late  now. 

Sanders  gave  the  pig  a  vicious  poke  with  a 
stick,  and  when  it  had  ceased  to  grunt,  Bell 
was  back  in  the  kitchen.  She  had  forgotten 
about  the  milk,  however,  and  Sara'l  only 
got  water  after  alL 

In  after  days,  when  the  story  of  Bell's 
wooing  was  told,  there  were  some  who  held 
that   the   circumstances   would   have  almost 


1 84  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

justified  the  lassie  in  giving  Sam'l  the  go-by. 
But  these  perhaps  forgot  that  her  other  lover 
was  in  the  same  predicament  as  the  accepted 
one — that  of  the  two,  indeed,  he  was  the  more 
to  blame,  for  he  set  off  to  T'nowhead  on  the 
Sabbath  of  his  own  accord,  while  Sam'l 
only  ran  after  him.  And  then  there  is  no  one 
to  say  for  certain  whether  Bell  heard  of  her 
suitors'  delinquencies  until  Lisbeth's  return 
from  the  kirk.  Sam'l  could  never  remember 
whether  he  told  her,  and  Bell  was  not  sure 
whether,  if  he  did,  she  took  it  in.  Sanders 
was  greatly  in  demand  for  weeks  after  to 
tell  what  he  knew  of  the  affair,  but  though 
he  was  twice  asked  to  tea  to  the  manse 
among  the  trees,  and  subjected  thereafter 
to  ministerial  cross-examinations,  this  is  all 
he  told.  He  remained  at  the  pigsty  until 
Sam'l  left  the  farm,  when  he  joined  him  at 
the  top  of  the  brae,  and  they  went  home 
together. 

"  It's  yersel,  Sanders,"  said  Sam'l. 

"  It  is  so,  Sam'l,"  said  Sanders. 

"  Very  cauld,"  said  Sam'l. 


COURTING  OF  TNOWHEAHS  PF.LI^  185 

"  Blawy,"  assented  Sanders. 

After  a  pause — 

"  Sam'l,"  said  Sanders. 

«Ay." 

"I'm  hearin'  yer  to  be  mairit." 

«  Ay." 

**  Weel,  Sam'l,  she's  a  snod  bit  lassie." 

"  Thank  ye,"  said  Sam'l. 

"  I  had  ance  a  kin'  o'  notion  o'  Bell  mysel," 
continued  Sanders. 

"  Ye  had  ?  " 

"Yes,  Sam'l ;   but  I  thocht  better  o't" 

"Hoo  d'ye  mean?"  asked  Sam'l,  a  little 
anxiously. 

"  Weel,  Sam'l,  mairitch  is  a  terrible  re- 
sponsibeelity." 

"  It  is  so,"  said  Sam'l,  wincing. 

"  An'  no  the  thing  to  tak  up  withoot  con- 
seederation." 

"  But  it's  a  blessed  and  honourable  state, 
Sanders  ;  ye've  heard  the  minister  on't." 

"They  say,"  continued  the  relentless 
Sanders,  "  'at  the  minister  doesna  get  on  sair 
wi'  the  wife  himsel." 


I S6  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

"  So  they  do,"  cried  Sam'l,  with  a  sinking 
at  the  heart. 

"  I've  been  telt,"  Sanders  went  on,  "  'at  gin 
ye  can  get  the  upper  han'  o'  the  wife  for  a 
while  at  first,  there's  the  mair  chance  o'  a 
harmonious  exeestence." 

"  Bell's  no  the  lassie,"  said  Sam'l,  appeal- 
xngly,  "  to  thwart  her  man." 

Sanders  smiled. 

"  D'y  ye  think  she  is,  Sanders  ?  " 

"  Weel,  Sam'l,  I  d'na  want  to  fluster  ye,  but 
she's  been  ower  lang  wi'  Lisbeth  Fargus'no 
to  hae  learnt  her  ways.  An  a'body  kins  what 
a  life  T'nowhead  has  wi'  her." 

"  Guid  sake,  Sanders,  hoo  did  ye  no  speak 
o'  this  afore  ? " 

"  I  thocht  ye  kent  o't,  Sam'l." 

They  had  now  reached  the  square,  and  the 
U.  P.  kirk  was  coming  out  The  Auld  Licht 
kirk  would  be  half  an  hour  yet. 

"  But,  Sanders,"  said  Sam'l,  brightening  up, 
"  ye  was  on  yer  wy  to  spier  her  yersel." 

"  I  was,  Sam'l,"  said  Sanders,  "  and  I  canna 
but  be  thankfu  ye  was  ower  quick  for'f," 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAD'S  BELL.  187 

"  Gin't  hadna  been  you,"  said  Sam'l,  **  I 
wid  never  hae  thocht  o't." 

"  I'm  sayin'  naething  agin  Bell,"  pursued 
the  other,  "  but,  man  Sam'l,  a  body  should  be 
mair  deleeberate  in  a  thing  o'  the  kind." 

"  It  was  michty  hurried,"  said  Sam'l,  woe- 
fully. 

"  It's  a  serious  thing  to  spier  a  lassie,"  said 
Sanders. 

"  It's  an  awfu  thing,"  said  Sam'l. 

"  But  we'll  hope  for  the  best,"  added  Sanders, 
in  a  hopeless  voica 

They  were  close  to  the  Tenements  now,  and 
Sam'l  looked  as  if  he  were  on  his  way  to  be 
hanged. 

"Sam'l?" 

"  Ay,  Sanders." 

"  Did  ye — did  ye  kiss  her,  Sam'l  ?  * 

"  Na." 

"Hoo?" 

"  There's  was  varra  little  time,  Sanders." 

"  Half  an  'oor,"  said  Sanders. 

"  Was  there  ?  Man  Sanders,  to  tell  ye  the 
truth,  I  never  thoct  o't." 


i88  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

Then  the  soul  of  Sanders  Elshioner  was 
filled  with  contempt  for  Sam'l  Dickie. 

The  scandal  blew  over.  At  first  it  was 
expected  that  the  minister  would  interfere  to 
prevent  the  union,  but  beyond  intimating  from 
the  pulpit  that  the  souls  of  Sabbath-breakers 
were  beyond  praying  for,  and  then  praying 
for  Sam'l  and  Sanders  at  great  length,  with  a 
word  thrown  in  for  Bell,  he  let  things  take 
their  course.  Some  said  it  was  because  he 
was  always  frightened  lest  his  young  men 
should  intermarry  with  other  denominations, 
but  Sanders  explained  it  differently  to  Sam'l. 

"  I  hav'na  a  word  to  say  agin  the  minister," 
he  said  ;  "  they're  gran'  prayers,  but  Sam'l, 
he's  a  mairit  man  himsel." 

"  He's  ^'  the  better  for  that,  Sanders,  isna 
he?" 

"  Do  ye  no  see,"  asked  Sanders,  compassion- 
ately, "  'at  he's  tryin'  to  mak  the  best  o't  ?  " 

Oh,  Sanders,  man  !  "  said  Sam'l. 

"  Cheer  up,  Sam'l,"  said  Sanders,  "it'll  sune 
be  ower." 

Their  having  been   rival   suitors   had   not 


*"Guid  sake,  Sauders,  lioo  dedye  uo  speak  o'  this  afoore?' 


COURTING  OF  T' NOW  HEAD'S  BELL.  i8 

interfered  with  their  friendship.  On  the  con- 
\xz.ry,  while  they  had  hitherto  been  mere 
acquaintances,  they  became  inseparables  as 
the  wedding-day  drew  near.  It  was  noticed 
that  they  had  much  to  say  to  each  other,  and 
that  when  they  could  not  get  a  room  to 
themselves  they  wandered  about  together  in 
the  churchyard.  When  Sam'l  had  anything  to 
tell  Bell  he  sent  Sanders  to  tell  it,  and 
Sanders  did  as  he  was  bid.  There  was 
nothing  that  he  would  not  have  done  for 
Sam'l. 

The  more  obliging  Sanders  was,  however, 
the  sadder  Sam'l  grew.  He  never  laughed 
now  on  Saturdays,  and  sometimes  his  loom 
was  silent  half  the  day.  Sam'l  felt  that 
Sanders's  was  the  kindness  of  a  friend  for  a 
d3Mng  man. 

It  was  to  be  a  penny  wedding,  and  Lisbeth 
Fargus  said  it  was  delicacy  that  made  Sam'l 
superintend  the  fitting-up  of  the  barn  by 
deputy.  Once  he  came  to  see  it  in  person, 
but  he  looked  so  ill  that  Sanders  had  to  see 
him    home.      This    was    on    the    Thursday 


190  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

afternoon,  and  the  wedding  was  fixed  for 
Friday. 

"  Sanders,  Sanders,"  said  Sam'l,  in  a  voice 
strangely  unlike  his  own,  "  it'll  a'  be  ower  by 
this  time  the  morn." 

"  It  will,"  said  Sanders. 

"  If  I  had  only  kent  her  langer,"  continued 
Sam'l. 

"  It  wid  hae  been  safer,"  said  Sanders. 

"  Did  ye  see  the  yallow  floor  in  Bell's 
bonnet  ?  "  asked  the  accepted  swain. 

**  Ay,"  said  Sanders,  reluctantly. 

"  I'm  dootin' — I'm  sair  dootin'  she's  but  a 
flichty,  licht-hearted  crittur  after  a'." 

"  I  had  ay  my  suspeecions  o't,"  said  Sanders. 

"  Ye  hae  kent  her  langer  than  me,"  said 
Sam'L 

"Yes,"  said  Sanders,  "but  there's  nae  gettin' 
at  the  heart  o'  women.  Man,  Sam'l,  they're 
desperate  cunnin'." 

I'm  dootin't  ;  I'm  sair  dootin't** 

"  It'll  be  a  warnin'  to  ye,  Sam'l,  no  to  be  in 
sic  a  hurry  i'  the  futur,"  said  Sanders. 

Sam'l  groaned. 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAiyS  BELL.  191 

"  Ye'll  be  gaein  up  to  the  manse  to  arrange 
wi'  the  minister  the  morn's  mornin',"  continued 
Sanders,  in  a  subdued  voice. 

Sam'l  looked  wistfully  at  his  friend. 

"  I  canna  do't,  Sanders,"  he  said,  "  I  canna 
do't" 

**Ye  maun,"  said  Sanders. 

**  It's  aisy  to  speak,"  retorted  Sam*!,  bitterly. 

"We  have  a'  oor  troubles,  Sam'l,"  said 
Sanders,  soothingly,  "  an'  every  man  maun 
bear  his  ain  burdens.  Johnny  Davie's  wife's 
dead,  an'  he's  no  repinin'." 

"Ay,"  said  Sam'l,  "but  a  death's  no  a 
mairitch.  We  hae  haen  deaths  in  our  family 
too." 

"  It  may  a'  be  for  the  best,"  added  Sanders, 
"  an'  there  wid  be  a  michty  talk  i'  the  hale 
country-side  gin  ye  didna  ging  to  the  minister 
like  a  man." 

"  I  maun  hae  langer  to  think  o't,"said  Sam'l. 

'*  Bell's  mairitch  is  the  morn,"  said  Sanders, 
decisively. 

Sam'l  glanced  up  with  a  wild  look  in  his> 
eyes. 


192  A ULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

"  Sanders,"  he  cried. 

"  Sam'l  ?  " 

"  Ye  hae  been  a  guld  friend  to  me,  Sanders, 
in  this  sair  affliction." 

"  Nothing  ava,"  said  Sanders  ;  "  dount 
mention'd." 

"  But,  Sanders,  ye  canna  deny  but  what 
your  rinnin  oot  o'  the  kirk  that  awfu'  day  was 
at  the  bottom  o'd  a'." 

"  It  was  so,"  said  Sanders,  bravely. 

"  An'  ye  used  to  be  fond  o'  Bell,  Sanders." 

"  I  dinna  deny't." 

"  Sanders,  laddie,"  said  Sam'l,  bending  for- 
ward and  speaking  in  a  wheedling  voice,  "  I 
aye  thocht  it  was  you  she  likeit" 

"  I  had  some  sic  idea  mysel,"  said  Sanders, 

"  Sanders,  I  canna  think  to  pairt  twa 
fowk  sae  weel  suited  to  ane  anither  as  you 
an'  Bell." 

"  Canna  ye,  Sam'l  ?  " 

"  She  wid  mak  ye  a  guid  wife,  Sanders.  I 
hae  studied  her  weel,  and  she's  a  thrifty, 
douce,  clever  lassie.  Sanders,  there's  no  the 
like  o'  her.     Mony  a  time,  Sanders,  I  hae  said 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAUS  BELL.  193 

to  mysel,  There's  a  lass  ony  man  micht  be 
prood  to  tak.  A'body  says  the  same,  San- 
ders. There's  nae  risk  ava,  man  :  nane  to 
speak  o'.  Tak  her,  laddie,  tak  her,  Sanders  ; 
it's  a  grand  chance,  Sanders.  She's  yours 
for  the  spierin.     I'll  gie  her  up,  Sanders." 

"  Will  ye,  though  ? "  said  Sanders. 

"What  d'ye  think?"  asked  Sam'l. 

"  If  ye  wid  rayther,"  said  Sanders,  politely. 

♦•  There's  my  han'  on't,"  said  Sam'l.  "  Bless 
ye,  Sanders ;  ye've  been  a  true  frien'  to 
me. 

Then  they  shook  hands  for  the  first  time  in 
their  lives  ;  and  soon  afterwards  Sanders 
struck  up  the  brae  to  T'nowhead. 

Next  morning  Sanders  Elshioner,  who  had 
been  very  busy  the  night  before,  put  on  his 
Sabbath  clothes  and  strolled  up  to  the  manse. 

"  But — but  where  is  Sam'l  ?  "  asked  the 
minister  ;  "  I  must  see  himself." 

**  It's  a  new  arrangement,"  said  Sanders. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Sanders  1 " 

"  Bell's  to  marry  me,"  explained  Sanders. 

"  But — but  what  does  Sam'l  say  ?  " 
14 


194  AULD  LTCHT  IDYLLS, 

"  He's  willin',"  said  Sanders. 

"And  Bell?" 

"  She's  willin',  too.     She  prefers't." 

"  It  is  unusual,"  said  the  minister. 

"  It's  a'  richt,"  said  Sanders. 

**  Well,  you  know  best,"  said  the  minister. 

"  You  see  the  hoose  was  taen,  at  ony  rate," 
continued  Sanders.  "An  I'll  juist  ging  in 
til't  instead  o'  Sam'l." 

"  Quite  so." 

**  An'  I  cudna  think  to  disappoint  the 
lassie." 

"  Your  sentiments  do  you  credit,  Sanders," 
said  the  minister  ;  "but  I  hope  you  do  not 
enter  upon  the  blessed  state  of  matrimony 
without  full  consideration  of  its  responsi- 
bilities.    It  is  a  serious  business  marriage." 

" It's  a'  that,"  said  Sanders, "but  I'm  willin' 
to  Stan'  the  risk." 

So,  as  soon  as  it  could  be  done,  Sanders 
Elshioner  took  to  wife  T'nowhead's  Bell,  and 
I  remember  seeing  Sam'l  Dickie  trying  to 
dance  at  the  penny  wedding. 

Years  afterwards  it  was  said  in  Thrums  that 


COURTING  OF  T'NOWHEAUS  BELL.  195 

Sam'l  had  treated  Bell  badly,  but  he  was 
never  sure  about  it  himself. 

"  It  was  a  near  thing — a  michty  near  thing," 
he  admitted  in  the  square. 

"  They  say,"  some  other  weaver  would  re- 
mark, "  'at  it  was  you  Bell  liked  best." 

"  I  d'na  kin,"  Sam'l  would  reply,  "  but 
there's  nae  doot  the  lassie  was  fell  fond  o' 
me.    Ou,  a  mere  passin'  fancy's  ye  micht  say." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

DAVIT  LUNAN'S   political  REMINISCENCbb. 

When  an  election-day  comes  round  now,  it 
takes  me  back  to  the  time  of  1832.  I  would 
be  eight  or  ten  year  old  at  that  time.  James 
Strachan  was  at  the  door  by  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning  in  his  Sabbath  clothes,  by  ar- 
rangement. We  was  to  go  up  to  the  hill  to 
see  them  building  the  bonfire.  Moreover, 
there  was  word  that  Mr.  Scrimgour  was  to  be 
there  tossing  pennies,  just  like  at  a  marriage. 
I  was  wakened  before  that  by  my  mother  at 
the  pans  and  bowls.  I  have  always  asso- 
ciated elections  since  that  time  with  jelly- 
making  ;  for  just  as  my  mother  would  fill  the 
cups  and  tankers  and  bowls  with  jelly  to 
save  cans,  she  was  emptying  the  pots  and 


POLITICAL  REMINISCENCES.        197 

pans  to  make  way  for  the  ale  and  porter. 
James  and  me  was  to  help  to  carry  it  home 
from  the  square — him  in  the  pitcher  and  me 
in  a  flagon,  because  I  was  silly  for  my  age 
and  not  strong  in  the  arms. 

It  was  a  very  blowy  morning,  though  the 
rain  kept  off,  and  what  part  of  the  bonfire 
had  been  built  already  was  found  scattered  to 
the  winds.  Before  we  rose  a  great  mass  of 
folk  was  getting  the  barrels  and  things  to- 
gether again  ;  but  some  of  them  was  never 
recovered,  and  suspicion  pointed  to  William 
Geddes,  it  being  well  known  that  William 
would  not  hesitate  to  carry  off  anything  if 
unobserved.  More  by  token  Chirsty  Lamby 
had  seen  him  rolling  home  a  barrowful  of 
firewood  early  in  the  morning,  her  having 
risen  to  hold  cold  water  in  her  mouth,  being 
down  with  the  toothache.  When  we  got  up 
to  the  hill  everybody  was  making  for  the 
quarry,  which  being  more  sheltered  was  now 
thought  to  be  a  better  place  for  the  bonfire. 
The  masons  had  struck  work,  it  being  a 
general   holiday  in   the  whole   country-side. 


198  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

There  was  a  great  commotion  of  people,  all 
fine  dressed  and  mostly  with  glengarry  bon- 
nets ;  and  me  and  James  was  well  acquaint 
with  them,  though  mostly  weavers  and  the 
like  and  not  my  father's  equal.  Mr.  Scrim- 
gour  was  not  there  himself ;  but  there  was  a 
small  active  body  in  his  room  as  tossed  the 
money  for  him  fair  enough  ;  though  not 
so  liberally  as  was  expected,  being  mostly 
ha'pence  where  pennies  was  looked  for.  Such 
was  not  my  father's  opinion,  and  him  and  a 
few  others  only  had  a  vote.  He  considered 
it  was  a  waste  of  money  giving  to  them  that 
had  no  vote  and  so  taking  out  of  other  folks' 
mouths,  but  the  little  man  said  it  kept  every- 
body in  good-humour  and  made  Mr.  Scrim- 
gour  popular.  He  was  an  extraordinaiy 
affable  man  and  very  spirity,  running  about 
to  waste  no  time  in  walking,  and  gave  me  a 
shilling,  saying  to  me  to  be  a  truthful  boy  and 
tell  my  father.  He  did  not  give  James  any- 
thing, him  being  an  orphan,  but  clapped  his 
head  and  said  he  was  a  fine  boy. 

The  Captain  was  to  vote  for  the  Bill  if  he  got 


POLITICAL  REMINISCENCES.         199 

in,  tlie  which  he  did.  It  was  the  Captain  was 
to  give  the  ale  and  porter  in  the  square  like 
a  true  gentleman.  My  father  gave  a  kind  of 
laugh  when  I  let  him  see  my  shilling,  and  said 
he  would  keep  care  of  it  for  me  ;  and  sorry  I 
was  I  let  him  get  it,  me  never  seeing  the  face 
of  it  again  to  this  day.  Me  and  James  was 
much  annoyed  with  the  women,  especially 
Kitty  Davie,  always  pushing  in  when  there 
was  tossing,  and  tearing  the  very  ha'pence 
out  of  our  hands  :  us  not  caring  so  much 
about  the  money,  but  humiliated  to  see 
women  mixing  up  in  politics.  By  the  time 
the  topmost  barrel  was  on  the  bonfire  there 
was  a  great  smell  of  whisky  in  the  quarry,  it 
being  a  confined  place.  My  father  had  been 
against  the  bonfire  being  in  the  quarry,  arguing 
that  the  wind  on  the  hill  would  have  carried  off 
the  smell  of  the  whisky  ;  but  Peter  Tosh  said 
they  did  not  want  the  smell  carried  off;  it 
would  be  agreeable  to  the  masons  for  weeks 
to  come.  Except  among  the  women  there 
was  no  fighting  nor  wrangling  at  the  quarry 
but  all  in  fine  spirits. 


200  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

I  misremember  now  whether  it  was  Mr. 
Scrimgour  or  the  Captain  that  took  the 
fancy  to  my  father's  pigs  ;  but  it  was  this 
day,  at  any  rate,  that  the  Captain  sent  him 
the  gamecock.  Whichever  one  it  was  that 
fancied  the  Htter  of  pigs,  nothing  would 
content  him  but  to  buy  them,  which  he  did 
at  thirty  shillings  each,  being  the  best  bar- 
gain ever  my  father  made.  Nevertheless 
I'm  thinking  he  was  windier  of  the  cock. 
The  Captain,  who  was  a  local  man  when 
not  with  his  regiment,  had  the  grandest  col- 
lection of  fighting-cocks  in  the  county,  and 
sometimes  came  into  the  town  to  try  them 
against  the  town  cocks.  I  mind  well  the 
large  wicker  cage  in  which  they  were  con- 
veyed from  place  to  place,  and  never  without 
the  Captain  near  at  hand.  My  father  had 
a  cock  that  beat  all  the  other  town  cocks  at 
the  cock  fight  at  our  school,  which  was 
superintended  by  the  elder  of  the  kirk  to  see 
fair  play  ;  but  the  which  died  of  its  wounds 
the  next  day  but  one.  This  was  a  great 
grief  to  my  father,  it  having  been  challenged 


POLITICAL  REMINISCENCES.        201 

to  fight  the  Captain's  cock.  Therefore  it 
was  very  considerate  of  the  Captain  to  make 
my  father  a  present  of  his  bird  ;  father,  in 
compliment  to  him,  changing  its  name  from 
the  "  Deil  "  to  the  "  Captain." 

During  the  forenoon,  and  I  think  until 
well  on  in  the  day,  James  and  me  was  busy 
with  the  pitcher  and  the  flagon.  The  pro- 
ceedings in  the  square,  however,  was  not  so 
well  conducted  as  in  the  quarry,  many  of  the 
folk  there  assembled  showing  a  mean  and 
grasping  spirit  The  Captain  had  given 
orders  that  there  was  to  be  no  stint  of  ale 
and  porter,  and  neither  there  was  ;  but  much 
of  it  lost  through  hastiness.  Great  barrels 
was  hurled  into  the  middle  of  the  square, 
where  the  country  wives  sat  with  their  eggs 
and  butter  on  market-day,  and  was  quickly 
stove  in  with  an  axe  or  paving-stone  or  what- 
ever came  handy.  Sometimes  they  would 
break  into  the  barrel  at  different  points ; 
and  then,  when  they  tilted  it  up  to  get  the 
ale  out  at  one  hole,  it  gushed  out  at  the 
bottom   till    the    square    was    flooded.     My 


;o2  A  ULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

mother  was  fair  disgusted  when  told  by  me 
and  James  of  the  waste  of  good  liquor.  It 
is  gospel  truth  I  speak  when  I  say  I  mind 
well  of  seeing  Singer  Davie  catching  the 
porter  in  a  pan  as  it  ran  down  the  sire,  and, 
when  the  pan  was  full  to  overflowing,  putting 
his  mouth  to  the  stream  and  drinking  till 
he  was  as  full  as  the  pan.  Most  of  the  men, 
however,  stuck  to  the  barrels,  the  drink 
running  in  the  street  being  ale  and  porter 
mixed,  and  left  it  to  the  women  and  the 
young  folk  to  do  the  carrying.  Susy 
M'Queen  brought  as  many  pans  as  she  could 
collect  on  a  barrow,  and  was  filling  them  all 
with  porter,  rejecting  the  ale  ;  but  indigna- 
tion was  aroused  against  her,  and  as  fast  as 
she  filled,  the  others  emptied. 

My  father  scorned  to  go  to  the  square  to 
drink  ale  and  porter  with  the  crowd,  having 
the  election  on  his  mind  and  him  to  vote. 
Nevertheless  he  instructed  me  and  James 
to  keep  up  a  brisk  trade  with  the  pans,  and 
run  back  across  the  gardens  in  case  we  met 
dishonest  folk  in  the  streets  who  might  drink 


POLITICAL  REMINISCENCES.         203 

the  ale.  Also,  said  my  father,  we  was  to 
let  the  excesses  of  our  neighbours  be  a  warn- 
ing in  sobriety  to  us ;  enough  being  as  good 
as  a  feast,  except  when  you  can  store  it 
up  for  the  winter.  By  and  by  my  mother 
thought  it  was  not  safe  me  being  in  the 
streets  with  so  many  wild  men  about,  and 
would  have  sent  James  himself,  him  being 
an  orphan  cind  hardier  ;  but  this  I  did  not 
like,  but,  running  out,  did  not  come  back  for 
long  enough.  There  is  no  doubt  that  the 
music  was  to  blame  for  firing  the  men's 
blood,  and  the  result  most  disgraceful  fight- 
ing with  no  object  in  view.  There  was  three 
fiddlers  and  two  at  the  flute,  most  of  them 
blind,  but  not  the  less  dangerous  on  that 
account ;  and  they  kept  the  town  in  a  fer- 
ment, even  playing  the  countryfolk  home 
to  the  farms,  followed  by  bands  of  townsfolk. 
They  were  a  quarrelsome  set,  the  ploughmen 
and  others ;  and  it  was  generally  admitted 
in  the  town  that  their  overbearing  behaviour 
was  responsible  for  the  fights.  I  mind  them 
b  ing  driven  out  of  the  square,  stones  flying 


204  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

thick  ;  also  some  stand-up  fights  with  sticks, 
and  others  fair  enough  with  fists.  The  worst 
fight  I  did  not  see.  It  took  place  in  a  field. 
At  first  it  was  only  between  two  who  had  been 
miscalling  one  another  ;  but  there  was  many 
looking  on,  and  when  the  town  man  was 
like  getting  the  worst  of  it  the  others  set  to, 
and  a  most  heathenish  fray  with  no  sense  in 
it  ensued.  One  man  had  his  arm  broken. 
I  mind  Hobart  the  bellman  going  about  ring- 
ing his  bell  and  telling  all  persons  to  get 
within  doors ;  but  little  attention  was  paid 
to  him,  it  being  notorious  that  Snecky  had 
had  a  fight  earlier  in  the  day  himself. 

When  James  was  fighting  in  the  field, 
according  to  his  own  account,  I  had  the 
lionour  of  dining  with  the  electors  who  voted 
for  the  Captain,  him  paying  all  expenses.  It 
was  a  lucky  accident  my  mother  sending  me 
to  the  town-house,  where  the  dinner  came  off, 
to  try  to  get  my  father  home  at  a  decent 
hour,  me  having  a  remarkable  power  over 
him  when  in  liquor  but  at  no  other  time. 
They  were  very  jolly,  however,  and  insisted 


POLITICAL  REMINISCENCES.         205 

on  my  drinking  the  Captain's  health  and 
eating  more  than  was  safe.  My  father  got 
it  next  day  from  my  mother  for  this  ;  and  so 
would  I  myself,  but  it  was  several  days  before 
I  left  my  bed,  completely  knocked  up  as 
I  was  with  the  excitement  and  one  thing  or 
another.  The  bonfire,  which  was  built  to 
celebrate  the  election  of  Mr.  Scrimgour,  was 
set  ablaze,  though  I  did  not  see  it,  in  honour 
of  the  election  of  the  Captain  ;  it  being 
thought  a  pity  to  lose  it,  as  no  doubt  it  would 
have  been.  That  is  about  all  I  remember 
of  the  celebrated  election  of  '32  when  the 
Reform  Bill  was  passed. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  VERY  OLD  FAMILY. 

They  were  a  very  old  family  with  whom 
Snecky  Hobart,  the  bellman,  lodged.  Their 
favourite  dissipation,  when  their  looms  had 
come  to  rest,  was  a  dander  through  the 
kirkyard.  They  dressed  for  it :  the  three 
young  ones  in  their  rusty  blacks ;  the  patri- 
arch in  his  old  blue  coat,  velvet  kneebreeches, 
and  broad  blue  bonnet;  and  often  of  an 
evening  I  have  met  them  moving  from  grave 
to  grave.  By  this  time  the  old  man  was 
nearly  ninety,  and  the  young  ones  averaged 
sixty.  They  read  out  the  inscriptions  on  the 
tombstones  in  a  solemn  drone,  and  their 
father  added  his  reminiscences.  He  never 
failed  them.     Since  the  beginning  of  the  cen- 


A   VERY  OLD  FAMILY.  207 

tury  he  had  not  missed  a  funeral,  and  his 
children  felt  that  he  was  a  great  example. 
Sire  and  sons  returned  from  the  cemetery 
invigorated  for  their  daily  labours.  If  one 
of  them  happened  to  start  a  dozen  yards 
behind  the  others,  he  never  thought  of  making 
up  the  distance.  If  his  foot  struck  against  a 
stone,  he  came  to  a  dead-stop  ;  when  he  dis- 
covered that  he  had  stopped,  he  set  off  again. 
A  high  wall  shut  off  this  old  family's  house 
and  garden  from  the  clatter  of  Thrums,  a 
wall  that  gave  Snecky  some  trouble  before 
he  went  to  live  within  it  I  speak  from  per- 
sonal knowledge.  One  spring  morning,  before 
the  schoolhouse  was  built,  I  was  assisting  the 
patriarch  to  divest  the  gaunt  garden  pump  of 
its  winter  suit  of  straw.  I  was  taking  a  drink, 
I  remember,  my  palm  over  the  mouth  of  the 
wooden  spout  and  my  mouth  at  the  gimlet 
hole  above,  when  a  leg  appeared  above  the 
corner  of  the  wall  against  which  the  hen- 
house was  built.  Two  hands  followed  clutch- 
ing desperately  at  the  uneven  stones.  Then 
the  leg  worked  as  if  it  were  turning  a  grind- 


2o8  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

stone,  and  next  moment  Snecky  was  sitting 
breathlessly  on  the  dyke.  From  this  to  the 
henhouse,  whose  roof  was  of  "  divets,"  the 
descent  was  comparatively  easy,  and  a  slanting 
board  allowed  the  daring  bellman  to  slide 
thence  to  the  ground.  He  had  come  on 
hus'iness,  and  having  talked  it  over  slowly 
with  the  old  ma-n  he  turned  to  depart. 
Though  he  was  a  genteel  man,  I  heard  him 
sigh  heavily  as,  with  the  remark,  "  Ay,  weel, 
I'll  be  movin'  again,"  he  began  to  rescale  the 
wall.  The  patriarch,  twisted  round  the  pOmp, 
made  no  reply,  so  I  ventured  to  suggest  to 
the  bellman  that  he  might  find  the  gate  easier. 
"  Is  there  agate?"  said  Snecky,  in  surprise  at 
the  resources  of  civilization.  I  pointed  it  out  to 
him,  and  he  went  his  way  chuckling.  The  old 
man  told  me  that  he  had  sometimes  wondered 
at  Snecky's  mode  of  approach,  but  it  had 
not  struck  him  to  say  anything.  Afterwards, 
when  the  bellman  took  up  his  abode  there, 
they  discussed  the  matter  heavily. 

Hobart  inherited  both  his  bell  and  his  nick- 
name from  his  father,  who  was  not  a  native 


A   VERY  OLD  FAMILY.  209 

of  Thrums.  He  came  from  some  distant  part 
where  the  people  speak  of  snecking  the  door, 
meaning  shut  it.  In  Thrums  the  word  used 
is  steek,  and  sneck  seemed  to  the  inhabitants 
so  droll  and  ridiculous  that  Hobart  got  the 
name  of  Snecky.  His  son  left  Thrums  at 
the  age  of  ten  for  the  distant  farm  of  Tirl, 
and  did  not  return  until  the  old  bellman's 
death,  twenty  years  afterwards  ;  but  the  first 
remark  he  overheard  on  entering  the  kirkwynd 
was  a  conjecture  fluiig  across  the  street  by  a 
grey-haired  crone,  that  he  would  be  "little 
Snecky  come  to  bury  auld  Snecky." 

The  father  had  a  reputation  in  his  day  for 
"  crying  "  crimes  he  was  suspected  of  having 
committed  himself,  but  the  Snecky  I  knew  had 
too  high  a  sense  of  his  own  importance  for 
that.  On  great  occasions,  such  as  the  loss  of 
little  Davy  Dundas,  or  when  a  tattie  roup 
had  to  be  cried,  he  was  even  offensively 
inflated  ;  but  ordinary  announcements,  such 
as  the  approach  of  a  flying  stationer,  the 
roup  of  a  deceased  weaver's  loom,  or 
the  arrival  in  Thrums  of  a  cart-load  of  fine 
15 


2  lo  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

"  kebec "  cheeses,  he  tre^ited  as  the  merest 
trifles.  I  see  still  the  bent  legs  of  the 
snuffy  old  man  straightening  to  the  tinkle 
of  his  bell,  and  the  smirk  with  which  he  let 
the  curious  populace  gather  round  him.  In 
one  hand  he  ostentatiously  displayed  the 
paper  on  which  what  he  had  to  cry  was 
written,  but,  like  the  minister,  he  scorned  to 
"  read."  With  the  bell  carefully  tucked  under 
his  oxter  he  gave  forth  his  news  in  a  rasping 
voice  that  broke  now  and  again  into  a 
squeal.  Though  Scotch  in  his  unofficial  con- 
versation, he  was  believed  to  deliver  himself 
on  public  occasions  in  the  finest  English. 
When  trotting  from  place  to  place  with  his 
news  he  carried  his  bell  by  the  tongue  as 
cautiously  as  if  it  were  a  flagon  of  milk. 

Snecky  never  allowed  himself  to  degenerate 
into  a  mere  machine.  His  proclamations  were 
provided  by  those  who  employed  him,  but  his 
soul  was  his  own.  Having  cried  a  potato 
roup  he  would  sometimes  add  a  word  of 
warning,  such  as,  "  I  wudna  advise  ye,  lads, 
to  hae  onything  to  do  wi'  thae  tatties  ;  they're 


A  VER  Y  OLD  FA  MIL  Y.  211 

diseased."  Once,  just  before  the  cattle 
market,  he  was  sent  round  by  a  local  laird 
to  announce  that  any  drover  found  taking  the 
short  cut  to  the  hill  through  the  grounds  of 
Muckle  Plowy  would  be  prosecuted  to  the 
utmost  limits  of  the  law.  The  people  were 
aghast  "  Hoots,  lads,"  Snecky  said  ;  "  dinna 
fash  yoursels.  It's  juist  a  haver  o'  the  grieve's." 
One  of  Hobart's  ways  of  striking  terror  into 
evildoers  was  to  announce,  when  crying  a 
crime,  that  he  himself  knew  perfectly  well 
who  the  culprit  was.  "  I  see  him  brawly,"  he 
would  say,  "  standing  afore  me,  an'  if  he 
disna  instantly  mak  retribution,  I  am  deter- 
mined this  very  day  to  mak  a  public  example 
of  hioL" 

Before  the  time  of  the  Burke  and  Hare  mur- 
ders Snecky's  father  was  sent  round  Thrums 
to  proclaim  the  startling  news  that  a  grave 
in  the  kirkyard  had  been  tampered  with.  The 
"  resurrectionist "  scare  was  at  its  height  then, 
and  the  patriarch,  who  was  one  of  the  men 
in  Thrums  paid  to  watch  new  graves  in  the 
night-time,   has   often   told   the   story.     The 


212  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

town  was  in  a  ferment  as  the  news  spread, 
and  there  were  fierce  suspicious  men  among 
Hobart's  hearers  who  already  had  the  rifler 
of  graves  in  their  eye. 

He  was  a  man  who  worlced  for  the  farmers 
when  they  required  an  extra  hand,  and  loafed 
about  the  square  when  they  could  do  without 
him.  No  one  had  a  good  word  for  him,  and 
lately  he  had  been  flush  of  money.  That  was 
sufficient  There  was  a  rush  of  angry  men 
through  the  "  pend  "  that  led  to  his  habita- 
tion, and  he  was  dragged,  panting  and  terri- 
fied, to  the  kirkyard  before  he  understood 
what  it  all  meant.  To  the  grave  they  hurried 
him,  and  almost  without  a  word  handed  him 
a  spade.  The  whole  town  gathered  round 
the  spot — a  sullen  crowd,  the  women  only 
breaking  the  silence  with  their  sobs,  and  the 
children  clinging  to  their  gowns.  The  sus- 
pected resurrectionist  understood  what  was 
wanted  of  him,  and,  flinging  off  his  jacket, 
began  to  reopen  the  grave.  Presently  the 
spade  struck  upon  wood,  and  by  and  by  part 
of  the  coflin  came  in  view.    That  was  nothing, 


A  VERY  OLD  FAMILY.  213 

for  the  resurrectionists  had  a  way  of  breaking 
the  coffin  at  one  end  and  drawing  out  the 
body  with  tongs.  The  digger  knew  this.  He 
broke  the  boards  with  the  spade  and  revealed 
an  arm.  The  people  convinced,  he  dropped 
the  arm  savagely,  leapt  out  of  the  grave  and 
went  his  way,  leaving  them  to  shovel  back 
the  earth  themselves. 

There  was  humour  in  the  old  family  as  well 
as  in  their  lodger.  I  found  this  out  slowly. 
They  used  to  gather  round  their  peat  fire  in 
the  evening,  after  the  poultry  had  gone  to 
sleep  on  the  kitchen  rafters,  and  take  off  their 
neighbours.  None  of  them  ever  laughed ; 
but  their  neighbours  did  afford  them  subject 
for  gossip,  and  the  old  man  was  very  sarcastic 
over  other  people's  old-fashioned  ways.  When 
one  of  the  family  wanted  to  go  out  he  did  it 
gradually.  He  would  be  sitting  "  into  the 
fire "  browning  his  corduroy  trousers,  and  he 
would  get  up  slowly.  Then  he  gazed  solemnly 
before  him  for  a  time,  and  after  that,  if  you 
watched  him  narrowly,  you  would  see  that  he 
was  really   moving   to   the   door.      Another 


214  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

member  of  the  family  took  the  vacant  seat 
with  the  same  precautions.  Will'um,  the 
eldest,  has  a  gun,  which  customarily  stands 
behind  the  old  eight-day  clock ;  and  he  takes 
it  with  him  to  the  garden  to  shoot  the  black- 
birds. Long  before  Will'um  is  ready  to  let 
fly,  the  blackbirds  have  gone  away  ;  and  so 
the  gun  is  never,  never  fired  :  but  there  is  a 
determined  look  on  Will'um's  face  when  he 
returns  from  the  garden. 

In  the  stormy  days  of  his  youth  the  old 
man  had  been  a  "Black  Nib."  The  Black 
Nibs  were  the  persons  who  agitated  against 
the  French  war  ;  and  the  public  feeling 
against  them  ran  strong  and  deep.  In 
Thrums  the  local  Black  Nibs  were  burned  in 
effigy,  and  whenever  they  put  their  heads  out 
of  doors  they  risked  being  stoned.  Even 
where  the  authorities  were  unprejudiced  they 
were  helpless  to  interfere  ;  and  as  a  rule  they 
were  as  bitter  against  the  Black  Nibs  as  the 
populace  themselves.  Once  the  patriarch 
was  running  through  the  street  with  a  score 
of    the   enemy  at  his  heels,  and  the  bailie, 


A   VERY  OLD  FAMILY.  215 

opening  his  window,  shouted  to  them,  "  Stane 
the  Black  Nib  oot  o'  the  toon  !  " 

When  the  patriarch  was  a  young  man  he 
was  a  follower  of  pleasure.  This  is  the  one 
thing  about  him  that  his  family  have  never 
been  able  to  understand.  A  solemn  stroll 
through  the  kirkyard  was  not  sufficient  re- 
laxation in  those  riotous  times,  after  a  hard 
day  at  the  loom  ;  and  he  rarely  lost  a  chance 
of  going  to  see  a  man  hanged.  There  was 
a  good  deal  of  hanging  in  those  days ;  and 
yet  the  authorities  had  an  ugly  way  of  re- 
prieving condemned  men  on  whom  the  sight- 
seers had  been  counting.  An  air  of  gloom 
would  gather  on  my  old  friend's  countenance 
when  he  told  how  he  and  his  contemporaries 
in  Thrums  trudged  every  Saturday  for  six 
weeks  to  the  county  town,  many  miles  dis- 
tant, to  witness  the  execution  of  some  crimi- 
nal in  whom  they  had  a  local  interest,  and  who, 
after  disappointing  them  again  and  again, 
was  said  to  have  been  bought  off  by  a  friend. 
His  crime  had  been  stolen  entrance  into  a 
house  in  Thrums  by  the  chimney,  with  intent 


2 1 6  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

to  rob  ;  and,  though  this  old-fashioned  family 
did  not  see  it,  not  the  least  noticeable  incident 
in  the  scrimmage  that  followed  was  the  pru- 
dence of  the  canny  housewife.  When  she 
saw  the  legs  coming  down  the  lum,  she 
rushed  to  the  kail-pot  which  was  on  the  fire 
and  put  on  the  lid.  She  confessed  that  this 
was  not  done  to  prevent  the  visitor's  scalding 
himself,  but  to  save  the  broth. 

The  old  man  was  repeated  in  his  three  sons. 
They  told  his  stories  precisely  as  he  did  him- 
self, taking  as  long  in  the  telling,  and  making 
the  points  in  exactly  the  same  way.  By  and 
by  they  will  come  to  think  that  they  them- 
selves were  of  those  past  times.  Already 
the  young  ones  look  like  contemporaries  of 
their  father. 


CHAPTER  XL 

LITTLE   RATHIE'S   "  BURAL." 

Devout-under-Difficulties  would  have 
been  the  name  of  Lang  Tammas  had  he 
been  of  Covenanting  times.  So  I  thought 
one  wintry  afternoon,  years  before  I  went  to 
the  schoolhouse,  when  he  dropped  in  to  ask 
the  pleasure  of  my  company  to  the  farmer 
of  Little  Rathie's  "  bural."  As  a  good  Auld 
Licht,  Tammas  reserved  his  swallow-tail 
coat  and  "  lum  hat "  (chimney  pot)  for  the 
kirk  and  funerals  ;  but  the  coat  would  have 
flapped  villainously,  to  Tammas's  eternal 
ignominy,  had  he  for  one  rash  moment  re- 
laxed his  hold  on  the  bottom  button,  and  it 
was  only  by  walking  sideways,  as  horses  some- 
times try  to  do,  that  the  hat  could  be  kept  at 


2 1 8  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  VLLS. 

the  angle  of  decorum.  Let  it  not  be  thought 
that  Tammas  had  asked  me  to  Little 
Rathie's  funeral  on  his  own  responsibility. 
Burals  were  among  the  few  events  to  break 
the  monotony  of  an  Auld  Licht  winter,  and 
invitations  were  as  much  sought  after  as  cards 
to  my  lady's  dances  in  the  south.  This 
had  been  a  fair  average  season  for  Tammas, 
though  of  his  four  burials  one  had  been  a 
bairn's — a  mere  bagatelle ;  but  had  it  not  been 
for  the  death  of  Little  Rathie  I  would  prob- 
ably not  have  been  out  that  year  at  all. 

The  small  farm  of  Little  Rathie  lies  two 
miles  from  Thrums,  and  Tammas  and  I 
trudged  manfully  through  the  snow,  adding 
to  our  numbers  as  we  went  The  dress  of 
none  differed  materially  from  the  precentor's, 
and  the  general  effect  was  of  septuagenarians 
in  each  other's  best  clothes,  though  living  in 
low-roofed  houses  had  bent  most  of  them 
before  their  time.  By  a  rearrangement  of 
garments,  such  as  making  Tammas  change 
coat,  hat,  and  trousers  with  Cragiebuckle, 
Silva    McQueen,   and  Sam'l   Wilkie   respec- 


LITTLE  RATHIES  "* BURALi'         219 

tively,  a  dexterous  tailor  might  perhaps  have 
supplied  each  with  a  "  fit"  The  talk  was 
chiefly  of  Little  Rathie,  and  sometimes 
threatened  to  become  animated,  when  another 
mourner  would  fall  in  and  restore  the  more 
fitting  gloom. 

"Ay,  ay,"  the  new  comer  would  say,  by 
way  of  responding  to  the  sober  salutation, 
"  Ay,  Johnny."  Then  there  was  silence,  but 
for  the  "  gluck "  with  which  we  lifted  our 
feet  from  the  slush. 

"  So  little  Rathie's  been  ta'en  awa','*  Johnny 
would  venture  to  say,  by  and  by. 

"  He's  gone,  Johnny  ;  ay,  man,  he  is  so.* 

"  Death  must  come  to  all,"  some  one  would 
waken  up  to  murmur. 

"Ay,"  Lang  Tammas  would  reply,  putting 
on  the  coping-stone,  "  in  the  morning  we  are 
strong,  and  in  the  evening  we  are  cut  down." 

"  We  are  so,  Tammas  ;  ou  ay,  we  are  so  ; 
we're  here  the  wan  day  an'  gone  the  neist." 

"  Little  Rathie  wasna  a  crittur  I  took 
till ;  no,  I  canna  say  he  was,"  said  Bowie 
Haggart,  so  called  because  his  legs  described 


220  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

a  parabola,  "  but  he  maks  a  vary  creeditable 
corp  (corpse).  I  will  say  that  for  him.  It's 
wonderfu'  hoo  death  improves  a  body.  Ye 
cudna  hae  said  as  Little  Rathie  was  a  weel- 
faured  man  when  he  was  i'  the  flesh." 

Bowie  was  the  wright,  and  attended  burials 
in  his  official  capacity.  He  had  the  gift  of 
words  to  an  uncommon  degree,  and  I  do  not 
forget  his  crushing  blow  at  the  reputation  of 
the  poet  Burns,  as  delivered  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Thrums  Literary  Society. 
"  I  am  of  opeenion,"  said  Bowie,  "  that  the 
works  of  Burns  is  of  an  immoral  tendency. 
I  have  not  read  them  myself,  but  such  is  my 
opeenion." 

"  He  was  a  queer  stock.  Little  Rathie, 
michty  queer,"  said  Tammas  Haggart,  Bowie's 
brother,  who  was  a  queer  stock  himself,  but 
was  not  aware  of  it ;  "  but,  ou,  I'm  thinkin' 
the  wife  had  something  to  do  wi't  She  was 
ill  to  manage,  an'  Little  Rathie  hadna  the 
way  o'  the  women.  He  hadna  the  knack  o' 
managin'  them  's  ye  micht  say — no,  Little 
Rathie  hadna  the  knack." 


LITTLE  RATH  IE' S ''BURAW        221 

"  They're  kittle  cattle,  the  women,"  said  the 
farmer  of  Craigiebuckle — son  of  the  Craigie- 
buckle  mentioned  elsewhere — a  little  gloomily. 
"  I've  often  thocht  maiterimony  is  no  onlike 
the  lucky  bags  th'  auld  wifies  has  at  the 
muckly.  There's  prizes  an'  blanks  baith  in- 
side, but,  losh,  ye're  far  frae  sure  what  ye'll 
draw  oot  when  ye  put  in  yer  han'." 

"  Ou,  weel,"  said  Tammas,  complacently, 
"there's  truth  in  what  ye  say,  but  the  women 
can  be  managed  if  ye  have  the  knack." 

"  Some  o'  them,"  said  Cragiebuckle, 
woefully. 

"Ye  had  yer  wark  wi'  the  wife  yersel, 
Tammas,  so  ye  had,"  observed  Lang  Tammas, 
unbending  to  suit  his  company. 

"  Ye're  speakin'  aboot  the  bit  wife's  bural,'* 
said  Tammas  Haggart,  with  a  chuckle,  "  ay, 
ay,  that  brocht  her  to  reason." 

Without  much  pressure  Haggart  retold  a 
story  known  to  the  majority  of  his  hearers. 
He  had  not  the  "  knack "  of  managing 
women  apparently  when  he  married,  for  he 
and  his  gipsy  wife  **  agreed  ill  thegither "  at 


22a  AULD  LICIIT  IDYLLS. 

first.  Once  Chirsty  left  him  and  took  up 
her  abode  in  a  house  just  across  the  wynd. 
Instead  of  routing  her  out,  Tammas,  without 
taking  any  one  into  his  confidence,  determined 
to  treat  Chirsty  as  dead,  and  celebrate  her 
decease  in  a  "lyke  wake" — a  last  wake.  These 
wakes  were  very  general  in  Thrums  in  the 
old  days,  though  they  had  ceased  to  be  com- 
mon by  the  date  of  Little  Rathie's  death. 
For  three  days  before  the  burial  the  friends 
and  neighbours  of  the  mourners  were  invited 
into  the  house  to  partake  of  food  and  drink 
by  the  side  of  the  corpse.  The  dead  lay  on 
chairs  covered  with  a  white  sheet  Dirges 
were  sung,  and  the  deceased  was  extolled, 
but  when  night  came  the  lights  were  ex- 
tinguished, and  the  corpse  was  left  alone. 
On  the  morning  of  the  funeral  tables  were 
spread  with  a  white  cloth  outside  the  house, 
and  food  and  drink  were  placed  upon  them. 
No  neighbour  could  pass  the  tables  without 
paying  his  respects  to  the  dead  ;  and  even 
when  the  house  was  in  a  busy,  narrow 
thoroughfare,  this  part  of  the  ceremony  was 


LITTLE  RATHIE'S ''BURAL."        223 

never  omitted.  Tammas  did  not  give  Chirsty 
a  wake  inside  the  house  ;  but  one  Friday 
morning — it  was  market-day,  and  the  square 
was  consequently  full — it  went  through  the 
town  that  the  tables  were  spread  before  his 
door.  Young  and  old  collected,  wandering 
round  the  house,  and  Tammas  stood  at  the 
tables  in  his  blacks  inviting  every  one  to  eat 
and  drink.  He  was  pressed  to  tell  what  it 
meant ;  but  nothing  could  be  got  from  him 
except  that  his  wife  was  dead.  At  times  he 
pressed  his  hands  to  his  heart,  and  then  he 
would  make  wry  faces,  trying  hard  to  cry. 
Chirsty  watched  from  a  window  across  the 
street,  until  she  perhaps  began  to  fear  that 
she  really  was  dead.  Unable  to  stand  it 
any  longer,  she  rushed  out  into  her  husband's 
arms,  and  shortly  afterwards  she  could  have 
been  seen  dismantling  the  tables. 

"  She's  gone  this  fower  year,"  Tammas  said, 
when  he  had  finished  his  story,  "  but  up  to 
the  end  I  had  no  more  trouble  wi'  Chirsty, 
No,  I  had  the  knack  o'  her." 

"  I've  heard  tell,  though,"  said  the  sceptical 


224  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

Craigiebuckle,  "  as  Chirsty  only  cam  back 
to  ye  because  she  cudna  bear  to  see  the 
fowk  makkin'  sae  free  wi'  the  whisky." 

"  I  mind  hoo  she  bottled  it  up  at  ance,  and 
drove  the  laddies  awa',"  said  Bowie,  "an'  I 
hae  seen  her  after  that,  Tammas,  giein'  ye 
up  yer  fut  an'  you  no  sayin'  a  word," 

"  Ou,  ay,"  said  the  wife-tamer,  in  the 
tone  of  a  man  who  could  afford  to  be  gene- 
rous in  trifles,  "  women  maun  talk,  an'  a  man 
hasna  aye  time  to  conterdick  them,  but  frae 
that  day  I  had  the  knack  o'  Chirsty." 

"Donal  Elshioner's  was  a  very  seemilar 
case,"  broke  in  Snecky  Hobart,  shrilly. 
"  Maist  o'  ye'll  mind  'at  Donal  was  michty 
plague't  wi'  a  drucken  wife.  Ay,  weel,  wan 
day  Bowie's  man  was  carryin'  a  coffin  past 
Donal's  door,  and  Donal  an'  the  wife  was 
there.  Says  Donal,  '  Put  doon  yer  coffin,  my 
man,  an'  tell's  wha  it's  for.'  The  laddie  rests 
the  coffin  on  its  end,  an'  says  he,  '  It's  for 
Davie  Fairbrother's  guid-wife.'  *Ay,  then,' 
says  Donal, '  tak  it  awa',  tak  it  awa'  to  Davie, 
an'  tell  'im  as  ye  kin  a  man  wi'  a  wife  'at  wid 


LITTLE  RATHIES  '' BURAL."         225 

be  glad  to  neifer  (exchange)  wi'  him.'     Man, 
that  terrified  Donal's  wife  ;  it  did  so." 

As  we  delved  up  the  twisting  road  between 
two  fields,  that  leads  to  the  farm  of  Little 
Rathie,  the  talk  became  less  general,  and 
another  mourner  who  joined  us  there  was 
told  that  the  farmer  was  gone. 

"We  must  all  fade  as  a  leaf,"  said  Lang 
Tammas. 

"  So  we  maun,  so  we  maun,"  admitted  the 
new-comer.  "  They  say,"  he  added,  solemnly, 
"  as  Little  Rathie  has  left  a  full  teapot." 

The  reference  was  to  the  safe  in  which  the 
old  people  in  the  district  stored  their  gains. 

**  He  was  thrifty,"  said  Tammas  Haggart, 
"  an'  shrewd,  too,  was  Little  Rathie.  I  mind 
Mr.  Dishart  admonishin'  him  for  no  attendin* 
a  special  weather  service  i'  the  kirk,  when 
Finny  an'  Lintool,  the  twa  adjoinin'  farmers, 
baith  attendit  '  Ou,'  says  Little  Rathie,  *  I 
thocht  to  mysel,  thinks  I,  if  they  get  rain 
for  prayin  '  for't  on  Finny  an'  Lintool, 
we're  bound  to  get  the  benefit  o't  on  Little 
Rathie.'" 

16 


226  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

"Tod,"  said  Snecky,  "there's  some  sense 
in  that  ;  an'  what  says  the  minister  ?  " 

"  I  d'na  kin  what  he  said,"  admitted  Hag- 
gart ;  "  but  he  took  Little  Rathie  up  to  the 
manse,  an'  if  ever  I  saw  a  man  lookin'  sma*, 
it  was  Little  Rathie  when  he  cam  oot." 

The  deceased  had  left  behind  him  a 
daughter  (herself  now  known  as  Little 
Rathie),  quite  capable  of  attending  to  the 
ramshackle  "  but  and  ben  "  ;  and  I  remember 
how  she  nipped  off  Tammas's  consolations 
to  go  out  and  feed  the  hens.  To  the  number 
of  about  twenty  we  assembled  round  the  end 
of  the  house  to  escape  the  bitter  wind,  and 
here  I  lost  the  precentor,  who,  as  an  Auld 
Licht  elder,  joined  the  chief  mourners  inside. 
The  post  of  distinction  at  a  funeral  is  near 
the  coffin  ;  but  it  is  not  given  to  every  one  to 
be  a  relative  of  the  deceased,  and  there  is 
always  much  competition  and  genteelly  con- 
cealed disappointment  over  the  few  open 
vacancies.  The  window  of  the  room  was  de- 
cently veiled,  but  the  mourners  outside  knew 
what  was  happening  within,  and  that  it  was 


LITTLE  RATHIBS  " BURAL:'         227 

not  all  prayer,  neither  mourning.  A  few  of 
the  more  reverent  uncovered  their  heads  at 
intervals  ;  but  it  would  be  idle  to  deny  that 
there  was  a  feeling  that  Little  Rathie's 
daughter  was  favouring  Tammas  and  others 
somewhat  invidiously.  Indeed,  Robbie  Gib- 
ruth,  did  not  scruple  to  remark  that  she  had 
made  "an  inauspeecious  beginning."  Tam- 
mas Haggart,  who  was  melancholy  when 
not  sarcastic,  though  he  brightened  up  won- 
derfully at  funerals,  reminded  Robbie  that 
disappointment  is  the  lot  of  man  on  his 
earthly  pilgrimage ;  but  Haggart  knew  who 
were  to  be  invited  back  after  the  burial  to 
the  farm,  and  was  inclined  to  make  much  of 
his  position.  The  secret  would  doubtless 
have  been  wormed  from  him  had  not  public 
attention  been  directed  into  another  channeL 
A  prayer  was  certainly  being  offered  up  in- 
side ;  but  the  voice  was  not  the  voice  of  the 
minister. 

Lang  Tammas  told  me  afterwards  that  it 
had  seemed  at  one  time  "  vary  queistionable  " 
whether  Little  Rathie  would  be  buried  that 


228  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

day  at  all.  The  incomprehensible  absence 
of  Mr.  Dishart  (afterwards  satisfactorily  ex- 
plained) had  raised  the  unexpected  question 
of  the  legality  of  a  burial  in  a  case  where  the 
minister  had  not  prayed  over  the  "  corp." 
There  had  even  been  an  indulgence  in 
hot  words,  and  the  Reverend  Alexander 
Kewans,  a  "  stickit  minister,"  but  not  of  the 
Auld  Licht  persuasion,  had  withdrawn  in 
dudgeon  on  hearing  Tarn  mas  asked  to  con- 
duct the  ceremony  instead  of  himself  But, 
great  as  Tammas  was  on  religious  questions, 
a  pillar  of  the  Auld  Licht  kirk,  the  Shorter 
Catechism  at  his  finger-ends,  a  sad  want  of 
words  at  the  very  time  when  he  needed  them 
most,  incapacitated  him  for  prayer  in  public, 
and  it  was  providential  that  Bowie  proved 
himself  a  man  of  parts.  But  Tammas  tells 
me  that  the  wright  grossly  abused  his  position, 
by  praying  at  such  length  that  Craigiebuckle 
fell  asleep,  and  the  mistress  had  to  rise  and 
hang  the  pot  on  the  fire  higher  up  the  joist, 
lest  its  contents  should  burn  before  the  return 
from  the  funeral.     Loury  grew  the  sky,  and 


LITTLE  RA  THIERS  «  B URAL.'*         229 

more  and  more  anxious  the  face  of  Little 
Rathie's  daughter,  and  still  Bowie  prayed 
on.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  impatience  of 
the  precentor  and  the  grumbling  of  the 
mourners  outside,  there  is  no  saying  when 
the  remains  would  have  been  lifted  through 
the  "  bole,"  or  little  window. 

Hearses  had  hardly  come  in  at  this  time, 
and  the  coffin  was  carried  by  the  mourners 
on  long  stakes.  The  straggling  procession  of 
pedestrians  behind  wound  its  slow  way  in 
the  waning  light  to  the  kirkyard,  showing 
startlingly  black  against  the  dazzling  snow ; 
and  it  was  not  until  the  earth  rattled  on  the 
coffin-lid  that  Little  Rathie's  nearest  male 
relative  seemed  to  remember  his  last  mourn- 
ful duty  to  the  dead.  Sidling  up  to  the 
favoured  mourners,  he  remarked  casually  and 
in  the  most  emotionless  tone  he  could  as- 
sume :  "  They're  expec'in  ye  to  stap  doon 
the  length  o'  Little  Rathie  noo.  Aye,  aye, 
he's  gone.  Na,  na,  nae  refoosal,  Da-avit ;  ye 
was  aye  a  guid  friend  till  him,  an'  it's  ony- 
thing  a  body  can  do  for  him  noo." 


230  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS, 

Though  the  uninvited  slunk  away  sorrow- 
fully, the  entertainment  provided  at  Auld 
Licht  houses  of  mourning  was  characteristic 
of  a  stern  and  sober  sect  They  got  to  eat 
and  to  drink  to  the  extent,  as  a  rule,  of  a 
"  l^PPy "  ^^  shortbread  and  a  "  brew "  of 
toddy  ;  but  open  Bibles  lay  on  the  table,  and 
the  eyes  of  each  were  on  his  neighbours  to 
catch  them  transgressing,  and  offer  up  a 
prayer  for  them  on  the  spot  Ay  me! 
there  is  no  Bowie  nowadays  to  fill  an  ab- 
sent minister's  shoes. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


A   LITERARY    CLUa 


The  ministers  in  the  town  did  not  hold  with 
literature.  When  the  most  notorious  of  the 
clubs  met  in  the  town-house  under  the  presi- 
dentship of  Gavin  Ogilvy,  who  was  no  better 
than  a  poacher,  and  was  troubled  in  his  mind 
because  writers  called  Pope  a  poet,  there  was 
frequently  a  wrangle  over  the  question,  Is 
literature  necessarily  immoral  ?  It  was  a 
fighting  club,  and  on  Friday  nights  the  few 
respectable,  god-fearing  members  dandered  to 
the  town-house,  as  if  merely  curious  to  have 
another  look  at  the  building.  If  Lang  Tammas, 
who  was  dead  against  letters,  was  in  sight 
they  wandered  off,  but  when  there  were  no 
spies  abroad  they  slunk  up  the  stair.     The 


232  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

attendance  was  greatest  on  dark  nights^ 
though  Gavin  himself  and  some  other  charac- 
ters would  have  marched  straight  to  the  meet- 
ing in  broad  day-light.  Tammas  Haggart,who 
did  not  think  much  of  Milton's  devil,  had 
married  a  gypsy  woman  for  an  experiment, 
and  the  Coat  of  Many  Colours  did  not  know 
where  his  wife  was.  As  a  rule,  however,  the 
members  were  wild  bachelors.  When  they 
married  they  had  to  settle  down. 

Gavin's  essay  on  Will'um  Pitt,  the  Father 
of  the  Taxes,  led  to  the  club's  being  bundled 
out  of  the  town-house,  where  people  said  it 
should  never  have  been  allowed  to  meet. 
There  was  a  terrible  town  when  Tammas 
Haggart  then  disclosed  the  secret  of  Mr. 
Byars's  supposed  approval  of  the  club.  Mr. 
Byars  was  the  Auld  Licht  minister  whom 
Mr.  Dishart  succeeded,  and  it  was  well  known 
that  he  had  advised  the  authorities  to  grant 
the  use  of  the  little  town-house  to  the  club 
on  Friday  evenings.  As  he  solemnly  warned 
his  congregation  against  attending  the  meet- 
ings the  position  he   had  taken  up  created 


A  LITERARY  CLUB.  233 

talk,  and  Lang  Tammas  called  at  the  manse 
with  Sanders  Whamond  to  remonstrate.  The 
minister,  however,  harangued  them  on  their 
sinfulness  in  daring  to  question  the  like  of 
him,  and  they  had  to  retire  vanquished  though 
dissatisfied.  Then  came  the  disclosures  of 
Tammas  Haggart,  who  was  never  properly 
secured  by  the  Auld  Lichts  until  Mr.  Dishart 
took  him  in  hand.  It  was  Tammas  who 
wrote  anonymous  letters  to  Mr.  Byars  about 
the  scarlet  woman,  and,  strange  to  say,  this 
led  to  the  club's  being  allowed  to  meet  in  the 
town-house.  The  minister,  after  many  days, 
discovered  who  his  correspondent  was,  and 
succeeded  in  inveigling  the  stone-breaker  to 
the  manse.  There,  with  the  door  snibbed, 
he  opened  out  on  Tammas,  who,  after  his 
usual  manner  when  hard  pressed,  pretended 
to  be  deaf.  This  sudden  fit  of  deafness  so 
exasperated  the  minister  that  he  flung  a  book 
at  Tammas.  The  scene  that  followed  was 
one  that  few  Auld  Licht  manses  can  have 
witnessed.  According  to  Tammas  the  book 
had  hardly  reached  the  floor  when  the  minister 


234  -4  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

turned  white.  Tammas  picked  up  the  missile. 
It  was  a  Bible.  The  two  men  looked  at 
each  other.  Beneath  the  window  Mr.  Byars's 
children  were  prattling.  His  wife  was  mov- 
ing about  in  the  next  room,  litth  :r.,rjKing 
what  had  happened.  The  ministe<  heid  out 
his  hand  for  the  Bible,  but  Tamma.-  jhook  his 
head,  and  then  Mr.  Byars  shrank  irtc  'o.  chair. 
Finally,  it  was  arranged  that  if  Taumas  kept 
the  affair  to  himself  the  minister  wourd  <ay  a 
good  word  to  the  Bailie  about  the  literary 
club.  After  that  the  stone-breaker  used  to 
go  from  house  to  house,  twisting  his  mouth  to 
the  side  and  remarking  that  he  could  tell 
such  a  tale  of  Mr.  Byars  as  would  lead  to  a 
split  in  the  kirk  When  the  town-house  was 
locked  on  the  club  Tammas  spoke  out,  but 
though  the  scandal  ran  from  door  to  door,  as 
I  have  seen  a  pig  in  a  fluster  do,  the  minister 
did  not  lose  his  place.  Tammas  preserved 
the  Bible,  and  showed  it  complacently  to 
visitors  as  the  present  he  got  from  Mr. 
Byars.  The  minister  knew  this,  and  it 
turned    his   temper   sour.      Tammas's   proud 


A  LITERARY  CLUB.  235 

moments,  after  that,  were  when  he  passed  the 
minister. 

Driven  from  the  town-house,  literature 
found  a  table  with  forms  round  it  in  a  tavern 
hard  by,  where  the  club,  lopped  of  its  most 
respectable  members,  kept  the  blinds  down 
and  talked  openly  of  Shakspeare.  It  was  a 
low-roofed  room,  with  pieces  of  lime  hanging 
from  the  ceiling  and  peeling  walls.  The  floor 
had  a  slope  that  tended  to  fling  the  debater 
forward,  and  its  boards,  lying  loose  on  an 
uneven  foundation,  rose  and  looked  at  you  as 
you  crossed  the  room.  In  winter,  when  the 
meetings  were  held  regularly  every  fortnight, 
a  fire  of  peat,  sod,  and  dross  lit  up  the  curious 
company  who  sat  round  the  table  shaking 
their  heads  over  Shelley's  mysticism,  or  re- 
quiring to  be  called  to  order  because  they 
would  not  wait  their  turn  to  deny  an  essayist's 
assertion  that  Berkeley's  style  was  superior 
to  David  Hume's.  Davit  Hume,  they  said, 
and  Watty  Scott.  Burns  was  simply  referred 
to  as  Rob  or  Robbie. 

There  was  little  drinking  at  these  meetings, 


236  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

for  the  members  knew  what  they  were  talking 
about,  and  your  mind  had  to  galop  to  keep  up 
with  the  flow  of  reasoning.  Thrums  is  rather 
a  remarkable  town.  There  are  scores  and 
scores  of  houses  in  it  that  have  sent  their 
sons  to  college  (by  what  a  struggle  !),  some  to 
make  their  way  to  the  front  in  their  profes- 
sions, and  others,  perhaps,  despite  their  broad- 
cloth, never  to  be  a  patch  on  their  parents. 
In  that  literary  club  there  were  men  of  a 
reading  so  wide  and  catholic  that  it  might 
put  some  graduates  of  the  universities  to 
shame,  and  of  an  intellect  so  keen  that  had  it 
not  had  a  crook  in  it  their  fame  would  have 
crossed  the  county.  Most  of  them  had  but  a 
thread-bare  existence,  for  you  weave  slowly 
with  a  Wordsworth  open  before  you,  and  some 
were  strange  Bohemians  (which  does  not  do 
in  Thrums),  yet  others  wandered  into  the 
world  and  compelled  it  to  recognize  them. 
There  is  a  London  barrister  whose  father 
belonged  to  the  club.  Not  many  years  ago  a 
man  died  on  the  staff  of  the  Times,  who, 
when  he  was  a  weaver  near  Thrums,  was  one 


A  LITERARY  CLUB.  237 

of  the  club's  prominent  members.  He  taught 
himself  shorthand  by  the  light  of  a  cruizey, 
and  got  a  post  on  a  Perth  paper,  afterwards 
on  the  Scotsman  and  the  Wttness,  and 
finally  on  the  Times.  Several  other  men  of 
his  type  had  a  history  worth  reading,  but  it  is 
not  for  me  to  write.  Yet  I  may  say  that 
there  is  still  at  least  one  of  the  original  mem- 
bers of  the  club  left  behind  in  Thrums  to 
whom  some  of  the  literary  dandies  might  lift 
their  hats. 

Gavin  Ogilvy  I  only  knew  as  a  weaver  and 
a  poacher  ;  a  lank,  long-armed  man,  much 
bent  from  crouching  in  ditches  whence  he 
watched  his  snares.  To  the  young  he  was 
a  romantic  figure,  because  they  saw  him  fre- 
quently in  the  fields  with  his  call -birds 
tempting  siskins,  yellow  yites,  and  linties  to 
twigs  which  he  had  previously  smeared  with 
lime.  He  made  the  lime  from  the  tough 
roots  of  holly  ;  sometimes  from  linseed  oil, 
which  is  boiled  until  thick,  when  it  is  taken 
out  of  the  pot  and  drawn  and  stretched  with 
the   hands   like  elastic     Gavin  was    also   a 


238  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

famous  hare-snarer  at  a  time  when  the 
ploughman  looked  upon  this  form  of  poach- 
ing as  his  perquisite.  The  snare  was  of  wire, 
so  constructed  that  the  hare  entangled  itself 
the  more  when  trying  to  escape,  and  it  wa? 
placed  across  the  little  roads  through  the 
fields  to  which  hares  confine  themselves,  with 
a  heavy  stone  attached  to  it  by  a  string. 
Once  Gavin  caught  a  toad  (fox)  instead  of  a 
hare,  and  did  not  discover  his  mistake  until 
it  had  him  by  the  teeth.  He  was  not  able  to 
weave  for  two  months.  The  grouse-netting 
was  more  lucrative  and  more  exciting,  and 
women  engaged  in  it  with  their  husbands. 
It  is  told  of  Gavin  that  he  was  on  one  occa- 
sion chased  by  a  gamekeeper  over  moor  and 
hill  for  twenty  miles,  and  that  by  and  by 
when  the  one  sank  down  exhausted  so  did 
the  other.  They  would  sit  fifty  yards  apart, 
glaring  at  each  other.  The  poacher  eventually 
escaped.  This,  curious  as  it  may  seem,  is  the 
man  whose  eloquence  at  the  club  has  not  been 
forgotten  in  fifty  years.  "  Thus  did  he  stand," 
I   have  been   told    recently,  "exclaiming  in 


A  LITERARY  CLUB.  239 

language  sublime  that  the  soul  shall  bloom 
in  immortal  youth  through  the  ruin  and  wrack 
of  time." 

Another  member  read  to  the  club  an 
account  of  his  journey  to  Lochnagar,  which 
was  afterwards  published  in  Chambers's  Journal. 
He  was  celebrated  for  his  descriptions  of 
scenery,  and  was  not  the  only  member  of  the 
club  whose  essays  got  into  print.  More 
memorable  perhaps  was  an  itinerant  match- 
seller  known  to  Thrums  and  the  surrounding 
towns  as  the  literary  spunk-seller.  He  was  a 
wizened,  shivering  old  man,  often  barefooted, 
wearing  at  the  best  a  thin  ragged  coat  that 
had  been  black  but  was  green-brown  with 
age,  and  he  made  his  spunks  as  well  as 
sold  them.  He  brought  Bacon  and  Adam 
Smith  into  Thrums,  and  he  loved  to  re- 
cite long  screeds  from  Spenser,  with  a 
running  commentary  on  the  versification 
and  the  luxuriance  of  the  diction.  Of 
Jamie's  death  I  do  not  care  to  write.  He 
went  without  many  a  dinner  in  order  to 
buy  a  book. 


240  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

The  Coat  of  Many  Colours  and  Silva 
Robbie  were  two  street  preachers  who  gave 
the  Thrums  ministers  some  work.  They 
occasionally  appeared  at  the  club.  The  Coat 
of  Many  Colours  was  so  called  because  he 
wore  a  garment  consisting  of  patches  of  cloth 
of  various  colours  sewed  together.  It  hung 
down  to  his  heels.  He  may  have  been 
cracked  rather  than  inspired,  but  he  was  a 
power  in  the  square  where  he  preached,  the 
women  declaring  that  he  was  gifted  by  God. 
An  awe  filled  even  the  men,  when  he  ad- 
monished them  for  using  strong  language,  for 
at  such  a  time  he  would  remind  them  of  the 
woe  which  fell  upon  Tibbie  Mason.  Tibbie 
had  been  notorious  in  her  day  for  evil-speak- 
ing, especially  for  her  free  use  of  the  word 
handless,  which  she  flung  a  hundred  times  in  a 
week  at  her  man,  and  even  at  her  old  mother. 
Her  punishment  was  to  have  a  son  born  with- 
out hands.  The  Coat  of  Many  Colours  also 
told  of  the  liar  who  exclaimed,  "  If  this  is  not 
gospel  true  may  I  stand  here  for  ever,"  and 
who  is  standing  on  that  spot  still,  only  nobody 


A  LITERARY  CLUB.  241 

knows  where  it  is.  George  Wishart  was  the 
Coat's  hero,  and  often  he  has  told  in  the 
Square  how  Wishart  saved  Dundee.  It  was 
the  time  when  the  plague  lay  over  Scotland, 
and  in  Dundee  they  saw  it  approaching  from 
the  West  in  the  form  of  a  great  black  cloud. 
They  fell  on  their  knees  and  prayed,  crying 
to  the  cloud  to  pass  them  by,  and  while  they 
prayed  it  came  nearer.  Then  they  looked 
around  for  the  most  holy  man  among  them, 
to  intervene  with  God  on  their  behalf.  All 
eyes  turned  to  George  Wishart,  and  he  stood 
up,  stretching  his  arms  to  the  cloud  and 
prayed,  and  it  rolled  back.  Thus  Dundee 
was  saved  from  the  plague,  but  when  Wishart 
ended  his  prayer  he  was  alone,  for  the  people 
had  all  returned  to  their  homes.  Less  of 
a  genuine  man  than  the  Coat  of  Many 
Colours  was  Silva  Robbie,  who  had  horrid 
fits  of  laughing  in  the  middle  of  his  prayers, 
and  even  fell  in  a  paroxysm  of  laughter  from 
the  chair  on  which  he  stood.  In  the  club  he 
said  things  not  to  be  borne,  though  logical  up 
to  a  certain  point. 

17 


242  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS, 

Tammas  Ila^gart  was  the  most  sarcastic 
member  of  the  club,  being  celebrated  for  his 
sarcasm  far  and  wide.  It  was  a  remarkable 
thing  about  him,  often  spoken  of,  that  if  you 
went  to  Tammas  with  a  stranger  and  asked 
him  to  say  a  sarcastic  thing  that  the  man 
might  take  away  as  a  specimen,  he  could 
not  do  it  "  Na,  na,"  Tammas  would  say, 
after  a  few  trials,  referring  to  sarcasm,  "  she's 
no  a  crittur  to  force.  Ye  maun  lat  her  tak 
her  ain  time.  Sometimes  she's  dry  like  the 
pump,  an'  syne,  again,  oot  she  comes  in  a 
gush."  The  most  sarcastic  thing  the  stone- 
breaker  ever  said  was  frequently  marvelled 
over  in  Thrums,  both  before  and  behind  his 
face,  but  unfortunately  no  one  could  ever 
remember  what  it  was.  The  subject,  how- 
ever, was  Cha  Tamson's  potato  pit.  There  is 
little  doubt  that  it  was  a  fit  of  sarcasm  that 
induced  Tammas  to  marry  a  gypsy  lassie. 
Mr.  Byars  would  not  join  them,  so  Tammas 
had  himself  married  by  Jimmy  Pawse,  the 
gay  little  gypsy  king,  and  after  that  the  min- 
ister re-married  them.    The  marriage  over  the 


A  LITERARY  CLUB.  243 

tongs  is  a  thing  to  scandalise  any  well-brought 
up  person,  for  before  he  joined  the  couple's 
hands,  Jimmy  jumped  about  in  a  startling 
way,  uttering  wild  gibberish,  and  after  the 
ceremony  was  over  there  was  rough  work, 
with  incantations  and  blowing  on  pipes. 
Tammas  always  held  that  this  marriage 
turned  out  better  than  he  had  expected 
though  he  had  his  trials  like  other  married 
men.  Among  them  was  Chirsty's  way  of 
climbing  on  to  the  dresser  to  get  at  the 
higher  part  of  the  plate-rack.  One  evening 
I  called  in  to  have  a  smoke  with  the  stone- 
breaker,  and  while  we  were  talking  Chirsty 
climbed  the  dresser.  The  next  moment  she 
was  on  the  floor  on  her  back,  wailing,  but 
Tammas  smoked  on  imperturbably.  "  Do  you 
not  see  what  has  happened,  man  } "  1  cried. 
'*  Ovj,"  said  Tammas,  "  she's  aye  fa'in  aff  the 
dresser." 

Of  the  schoolmasters  who  were  at  times 
members  of  the  club,  Mr.  Dickie  was  the 
ripest  scholar,  but  my  predecessor  at  the 
school-house,  had  a  way  of  sneering  at  hiro 


244  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

that  was  as  good  as  sarcasm.  When  they 
were  on  their  legs  at  the  same  time,  asking 
each  other  passionately  to  be  calm,  and  rolling 
out  lines  from  Homer,  that  made  the  inn- 
keeper look  fearfully  to  the  fastenings  of  the 
door,  their  heads  very  nearly  came  together 
although  the  table  was  between  them.  The 
old  dominie  had  an  advantage  in  being  the 
shorter  man,  for  he  could  hammer  on  the 
table  as  he  spoke,  while  gaunt  Mr.  Dickie  had 
to  stoop  to  it.  Mr.  McRittie's  arguments 
were  a  series  of  nails  that  he  knocked  into 
the  table,  and  he  did  it  in  a  workmanlike 
manner.  Mr.  Dickie,  though  he  kept  firm  on 
his  feet,  swayed  his  body  until  by  and  by  his 
head  was  rotating  in  a  large  circle.  The 
mathematical  figure  he  made  was  a  cone 
revolving  on  its  apex.  Gavin's  reinstalment 
in  the  chair  year  after  year  was  made  by  the 
disappointed  dominie  the  subject  of  some  tart 
verses  which  he  called  an  epode,  but  Gavin 
crushed  him  when  they  were  read  before  the 
club.  *'  Satire,"  he  said,  *'  is  a  legitimate 
weapon,  used  with   michty  effect   by   Swift, 


A  LITERARY  CLUB.  245 

Sammy  Butler,  and  others,  and  I  dount  object 
to  being  made  the  subject  of  creeticism.  It 
has  often  been  called  a  t'nife  (knife),  but  them 
as  is  not  used  to  t'nives  cuts  their  hands,  and 
ye'll  a'  observe  that  Mr.  McRittie's  fingers  is 
bleedin'."  All  eyes  were  turned  upon  the 
dominie's  hand,  and  though  he  pocketed  it 
smartly  several  members  had  seen  the  blood. 
The  dominie  was  a  rare  visitor  at  the  club 
after  that,  though  he  outlived  poor  Mr.  Dickie 
by  many  years.  Mr.  Dickie  was  a  teacher  in 
Tilliedrum,  but  he  was  ruined  by  drink.  He 
wandered  from  town  to  town,  reciting  Greek 
and  Latin  poetry  to  any  one  who  would  give 
him  a  dram,  and  sometimes  he  wept  and 
moaned  aloud  in  the  street,  crying,  "  Poor 
Mr.  Dickie !  poor  Mr.  Dickie ! " 

The  leading  poet  in  a  club  of  poets  was 
Dite  Walls,  who  kept  a  school  when  there 
were  scholars,  and  weaved  when  there  were 
none.  He  had  a  song  that  was  published  in 
a  half-penny  leaflet  about  the  famous  lawsuit 
instituted  by  the  farmer  of  Teuchbusses  against 
the  Laird  of  Drumlee.    The  laird  was  alleged 


246  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

to  have  taken  from  the  land  of  Teuchbusses 
sufficient  broom  to  make  a  besom  thereof,  and 
I  am  not  certain  that  the  case  is  settled  to 
this  day.  It  was  Dite  or  another  member 
of  the  club,  who  wrote  "The  Wife  o'  Deeside," 
of  all  the  songs  of  the  period  the  one  that 
had  the  greatest  vogue  in  the  county  at  a 
time  when  Lord  Jeffrey  was  cursed  at  every 
fireside  in  Thrums.  The  wife  of  Deeside  was 
tried  for  the  murder  of  her  servant  who  had 
infatuated  the  young  laird,  and  had  it  not 
been  that  Jeffrey  defended  her  she  would,  in 
the  words  of  the  song,  have  "hung  like  a 
troot"  It  is  not  easy  now  to  conceive  the 
rage  against  Jeffrey  when  the  woman  was 
acquitted.  The  song  was  sung  and  recited  in 
the  streets,  at  the  smiddy,  in  bothies,  and  by 
firesides,  to  the  shaking  of  fists  and  the  grind- 
ing of  teeth.     It  began — 

••Yell  a'  hae  hear  tell  o'  the  wife  o*  Deeside, 
Ye'll  a'  hae  hear  tell  o*  the  wiL  o'  Deeside, 
She  poisoned  her  maid  for  to  keep  up  her  pride, 
Ye'll  a  hae  hear  tell  o'  the  wife  o'  Deeside." 

Before  the  excitement  had  abated,  Jeffrey  was 


A  LITERARY  CLUB.  247 

in  Tilliedrum  for  electioneering  purposes,  and 
he  was  mobbed  in  the  streets.  Angry  crowds 
pressed  close  to  howl,  "  Wife  o'  Deeside !"  at 
him.  A  contingent  from  Thrums  was  there, 
and  it  was  long  afterwards  told  of  Sam'l  Todd, 
by  himself,  that  he  hit  Jeffrey  on  the  back  of 
the  head  with  a  clod  of  earth. 

Johnny  McQuhatty,  a  brother  of  the  T'now- 
head  farmer,  was  the  one  taciturn  member  of 
the  club,  and  you  had  only  to  look  at  him  to 
know  tliat  he  had  a  secret  He  was  a  great 
genius  at  the  handloom,  and  invented  a  loom 
for  the  weaving  of  linen  such  as  has  not  been 
seen  before  or  since.  In  the  day-time  he  kept 
guard  over  his  "  shop,"  into  which  no  one  was 
allowed  to  enter,  and  the  fame  of  his  loom 
was  so  great  that  he  had  to  watch  over  it  with 
a  gun.  At  night  he  weaved,  and  when  the 
result  at  last  pleased  him  he  made  the  linen 
into  shirts,  all  of  which  he  stitched  together 
with  his  own  hands,  even  to  the  buttonholes. 
He  sent  one  shirt  to  the  Queen,  and  another 
to  the  Duchess  of  Athole,  mentioning  a  very 
large  price  for  them,  which  he  got     Then  he 


248  A  ULD  LIGHT  ID  YLLS. 

destroyed  his  wonderful  loom,  and  how  it  was 
made  no  one  will  ever  know.  Johnny  only 
took  to  literature  after  he  had  made  his  name, 
and  he  seldom  spoke  at  the  club  except  when 
ghosts  and  the  like  were  the  subject  of  debate, 
as  they  tended  to  be  when  the  farmer  of 
Muckle  Haws  could  get  in  a  work.  Muckle 
Haws  was  fascinated  by  Johnny's  sneers  at 
superstition,  and  sometimes  on  dark  nights 
the  inventor  had  to  make  his  courage  good  by 
seeing  the  farmer  past  the  doulie  yates  (ghost 
gates),  which  Muckle  Haws  had  to  go  peril- 
ously near  on  his  way  home.  Johnny  was  a 
small  man,  but  it  was  the  burly  farmer  who 
shook  at  sight  of  the  gates  standing  out  white 
in  the  night  White  gates  have  an  evil  name 
still,  and  Muckles  Haws  was  full  of  horrors  as 
he  drew  near  them,  clinging  to  Johnny's  arm. 
It  was  on  such  a  night,  he  would  remember, 
that  he  saw  the  White  Lady  go  through 
the  gates  greeting  sorely,  with  a  dead  bairn 
in  her  arms,  while  water  kelpie  laughed  and 
splashed  in  the  pools,  and  the  witches  danced 
in  a  ring  round  Broken  Buss.  That  very  night 


A  LITERARY  CLUB.  249 

twelve  months  ago  the  packman  was  mur- 
dered at  Broken  Buss,  and  Easie  Pettie 
hanged  herself  on  the  stump  of  a  tree.  Last 
night  there  were  ugly  sounds  from  the  quarry 
of  Croup,  where  the  bairn  lies  buried,  and  it's 
not  mous  (canny)  to  be  out  at  such  a  time. 
The  farmer  had  seen  spectre  maidens  walking 
round  the  ruined  castle  of  Darg,  and  the 
Castle  all  lit  up  with  flaring  torches,  and 
dead  knights  and  ladies  sitting  in  the  halls  at 
the  wine-cup,  and  the  devil  himself  flapping 
his  wings  on  the  ramparts. 

When  the  debates  were  political,  two  mem- 
bers with  the  gift  of  song  fired  the  blood  with 
their  own  poems  about  taxation  and  the  de- 
population of  the  Highlands,  and  by  selling 
these  songs  from  door  to  door  they  made 
their  livelihood. 

Books  and  pamphlets  were  brought  into  the 
town  by  the  flying  stationers,  as  they  were 
called,  who  visited  the  square  periodically  car- 
rying their  wares  on  their  backs,  except  at  the 
Muckly,  when  they  had  their  stall  and  even 
sold  books  by  auction.  The  flying  stationer 
18 


250  AULD  LIGHT  IDYLLS. 

best  known  to  Thrums  was  Sandersy  Riach, 
who  was  stricken  from  head  to  foot  with  the 
palsy,  and  could  only  speak  with  a  quaver  in 
consequence.  Sandersy  brought  to  the  mem- 
bers of  the  club  all  the  great  books  he  could 
get  second  hand,  but  his  stock-in-trade  was 
Thrummy  Cap  and  Akenstaff,  the  Fish- 
wives of  Buckhaven,  the  Devil  upon  Two 
Sticks,  Gilderoy,  Sir  James  the  Rose,  the 
Brownie  of  Badenoch,  the  Ghaist  of  Firenden, 
and  the  like.  It  was  from  Sandersy  that  Tam- 
mas  Haggart  bought  his  copy  of  Shakspeare, 
whom  Mr,  Dishart  could  never  abide.  Tam- 
mas  kept  what  he  had  done  from  his  wife,  but 
Chirsty  saw  a  deterioration  setting  in  and 
told  the  minister  of  her  suspicions.  Mr. 
Dishart  was  newly  placed  at  the  time  and 
very  vigorous,  and  the  way  he  shook  the  truth 
out  of  Tammas  was  grand.  The  m-inister 
pulled  Tammas  the  one  way  and  Gavin  pulled 
him  the  other,  but  ]\Ir.  Dishart  was  not  the 
man  to  be  beaten,  and  he  landed  Tammas  in 
the  Auld  Licht  kirk  before  the  year  was  out 
Chirsty  buried  Shakspeare  in  the  yard. 


ft. 


I  '-y^i 


70 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


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a^iii 


